Trusting In Secrets
by Emlizanne
Summary: COMPLETE. Everyone has a past. Some have more to hide than others. And sometimes, the truth is more dangerous than lies. *A Remus-centric drama/romance with a twist of mystery*
1. The Werewolf

Trusting in Secrets ****

Trusting in Secrets

****

Author's note: __Hello. I don't have a lot to say here, except thanks for clicking on my story. Oh, and none of it's mine. Well, Elena is. But Remus, Dumbledore, Harry, Snape and co. are all the rightful property of JK Rowling. This is my first piece of Harry Potter fanfic, so I hope you enjoy it. Please R&R – like everyone else, I love feedback! PS. A huge thank you to Lallybroch, my beta-reader, for reading, correcting, encouraging… and persevering! : )

****

.Chapter 1.

Remus Lupin sat alone on the Hogwarts express, staring sightlessly out at the green blur of the scenery rushing past. It was very beautiful countryside, but his present frame of mind was not exactly conducive to the appreciation of pastoral delights. He still could not even be sure that he had made the right choice in climbing aboard this train in the first place...

He thought again of the neatly folded letter in the pocket of his robes.

In it, Dumbledore had not just suggested that he return to Hogwarts. He had requested it. _'For your safety, and for ours_' he had written. Remus had pondered over this odd choice of words for a very long time. Alone on the train, his thoughts circled once again over the well-worn terrain.

The first part made sense enough, for if Voldemort and his cronies truly were returning to power, then Remus knew very well that he and Sirius would be among the first that Wormtail would want to see eliminated. But if they were at Hogwarts, Peter wouldn't dare take the risk. In all the wizarding world, there could be no safer place for Moony and Padfoot to reside than at Hogwarts.

But Dumbledore had spoken of 'our' safety. This was the part of the letter that Remus could not decipher. For how could the presence of a werewolf make Hogwarts safer? And who exactly did Dumbledore mean when he said 'our safety'? He couldn't mean himself. Perhaps he meant Harry? It was likely, after all, that James's son would need all the protection his friends could give him in the coming year. So perhaps the Headmaster just wanted another pair of eyes on the boy.

Or perhaps, Remus thought wryly, perhaps I'm simply reading too much into those words. Ostensibly, I am going to Hogwarts to support Professor Moody in teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts. And Dumbledore's justifications for inviting me in this capacity make perfect sense. He plans to double the number of Defence lessons the students receive, and to make that plan viable, he requires a second teacher qualified in the subject. It _does_ make sense. And yet ... 

Remus could not shake his doubts. It was not just the familiar old fear that the Wolf would escape which plagued him now, it was also the strange but persistent suspicion that there was something the old Headmaster was not telling him. Something that had been hinted at, but never properly explained…

Yet he could not have refused Dumbledore. For the umpteenth time, Remus's thoughts circled back to this same conclusion. For no matter what his own reservations were, he respected and owed Albus Dumbledore too much to defy him in anything. Whatever role the old Headmaster wished him to play he would play it, regardless of whether or not he understood it. That, ultimately, was the bottom line.

And his future? Well, only time would tell what the future held.


	2. The Charmer

****

.Chapter 2.

Remus had no way of knowing that he was not the only person on the train who felt they were hurtling helplessly toward a future that no force but time could reveal.

Like him, she sat alone. Like him, she was questioning her decision to travel to Hogwarts. Like him, she was thinking of a letter. And like him, that letter was from Albus Dumbledore.

Apparently he was a great wizard, and a famous one. She wouldn't know. Her upbringing had not been exactly conventional. The first she had learned of Albus Dumbledore's existence had been from the back of children's trading card, only a few months ago.

He had looked familiar, though. He had looked ... the answer eluded her for several long minutes as she wracked her brain for the connection. Then it hit her, and the realisation had sent her rigid with shock. 

The man in the picture looked like her father - but no. A sharp stab of remembered pain forced her to amend the thought: he looked as her father might have looked, if he had ever lived to reach such an age.

Alone, and desperate for any lead that would help her to find the answers she sought, she had written to this 'Albus Dumbledore'. Taken a wild risk and told him everything. Begged him to tell her anything he might know about her family.

His response had been prompt, and its content most unexpected. He was not certain that he could help her with respect to her inquiries, he had written, but he had noticed in her letter that she had referred to her mother as a Charmer, and was wondering if the trait had been inherited because his school had not had a decent Charmer on staff in years. 

It had taken her a good few moments before she had worked out that he was offering her a job.

Well, she wasn't stupid. She had told Dumbledore of the danger she feared she was in. She knew perfectly well that the letter she now held in her hands was not simply an altruistic offer of employment, but an offer of sanctuary.

It was unexpected. She had not anticipated his protection, all she had sought was information. And truth be told, she had not even held much hope of that. For more than a year, she had investigated tirelessly, with not even the flimsiest of leads to show for all her efforts...

She was so tired. And if it was true what they were saying about Voldemort's resurrection, then she was scared, too. Tired, scared, and running out of places to run to.

Given her circumstances, she knew that only a fool would decline what Dumbledore was offering her, but nonetheless, she had struggled with her decision. She still wondered if she had made the right choice.

She thought again of the letter she had received, and the futile cycle of her thoughts began again. With an impatient sigh, she shook her head. There was no point dwelling on the same questions for hours on end when no answers were available. Only time would tell what the future held. 

And meanwhile, she decided firmly, she was going for a walk.


	3. The Encounter

****

.Chapter 3.

Remus had left his carriage to fetch a drink from the witch who commandeered the food trolley. Strange, he thought irrelevantly, how much she looked like the witch who had filled the same role in his own school days. Remus smiled, remembering the veritable mountains of sweets James and Sirius had amassed twice a year, coming and going from Hogwarts. They could probably have kept the old witch in business single handedly. But somehow, come the Hogsmeade weekends, their stock piles were always depleted enough to warrant another splurge at Zonko's.

Remus secured his drink, and took his time consuming it before turning and making his way back to his carriage, still lost in memories. They were much sweeter to him now that the bitterness of Sirius's supposed betrayal had been removed.

He didn't even notice the doorway he was passing until the compartment door slid abruptly open and a young witch came striding out. Neither of them had time to react before she crashed heavily into him. Both stumbled from the impact, Remus falling back against the wall of the narrow train corridor, and the woman nearly tumbling to the floor. He managed just in time to catch her around the waist, and she fell against him instead, her hands clutching instinctively at his forearms as she tried to stabilize.

He opened his mouth to ask if she was all right, and apologise for not paying more attention. But at that moment the witch tilted her face upwards and the words died in his throat.

The first thought that occurred to him was that she had the most extraordinary eyes he had ever seen in his life. They were deep blue and depthless, framed by thick lashes, and looked almost too large for her small, pale face. Their colour was darkened by faint smudges of purple under each eye, speaking of weariness and strain in a language he could certainly relate to.

The second thing he could not help but notice was that to go along with her unique and intriguing eyes, she also had a very interesting body. She had fallen directly against him - and had not yet stepped back. The heat of her skin, even through the cloth of both their robes, was intensely distracting, and he was acutely aware of every place her body curved. His hands, he realised suddenly, were still on her waist, and if he splayed his fingers any more they would encircle it completely.

Remus blinked hard, and forced himself to focus his attention on the witch's face. He noticed that her pale lips were slightly parted, as if she too had meant to say something, but the dazed look in her blue eyes as she stared up at him indicated that she had completely forgotten what it was.

If a stranger were to step into the corridor now and see their positions, they would probably assume he was moments away from kissing her.

Perhaps he was.

The dizzying compulsion to lean down and press his lips against hers was so strong that the shock of it managed to break through the strange trance he had fallen into. He shook his head rapidly, and with a movement that was almost rough with haste, he pushed her back.

For her part, the small witch blinked suddenly, and an instant later her pale cheeks flushed very faintly pink with an uncertain emotion.

"Oh - sorry - " she stammered, then cleared her throat quickly and gave a hesitant smile. "I wasn't watching where I was going. I hope I didn't hurt you."

Falling back on politeness as she had done, Remus managed to assure her that he was unharmed, and no apology was necessary. But the main portion of his consciousness was still unable to forget what had just happened.

What had become of his logic? His reserve? His implacable control?

It was more than a little disconcerting, and standing around exchanging platitudes with the cause of his disquiet certainly wasn't going to help ease his state of mind.

As swiftly as he could without compromising the requirements of civility, Remus made his excuses, and turned away from the mysterious witch. He strode away down the corridor, and did not look back.


	4. The Grey Eyed Man

****

.Chapter 4.

For several seconds after the stranger had disappeared, Elena stood unmoving, simply staring down the empty corridor. 

She realised that her heart was pounding.

What happened then? She wondered dazedly, her head still spinning lightly.

Moving very slowly, Elena turned back to her carriage and sat down, calming the rate of her breathing with a conscious effort. Still thinking of the very strange encounter she had just experienced.

She supposed, now that she thought back on it, that it had been his eyes which had disconcerted her... She'd seen grey eyes before, of course, but never quite like his. Grey eyes were usually speckled with darker colours, or more smoky blue than truly grey. But this man had eyes like the sky before a snowstorm - cool and clear, pure unblemished slate.

He had not, her memory conceded, been especially handsome. But there was a word for him. Intriguing? With those eyes, it was inarguable. Compelling? Well yes, most definitely compelling. More than that though, he was . . . Elena strained to think of the word she sought, then released her breath in a sigh of mild frustration. The elusive quality she had sensed so strongly in him refused to pinned down by any convenient phrase.

All Elena knew was that there had been something about the man in the corridor which had affected her very strangely indeed, and she would give a lot to know what it had been. 


	5. The Werewolf's Vow

****

.Chapter 5.

He had always tried to have as little as possible to do with women his own age. It was a habit he had begun in adolescence, but he had never found it easy. How he had made it through his school days with his vows to himself unbroken, he would never know, for he had been popular at Hogwarts. Bizarre, but true. 

He had been one of the infamous Maurauders, the gang renowned throughout the school as troublemakers, pranksters, and all round really cool guys. And popularity had been a good feeling, he couldn't deny that. 

In the eyes of their female peers, he and each of his friends had been neatly stereotyped, and were giggled over accordingly. Sirius was the wild one, exciting and unpredictable. James was the smart one, charming and witty and a Quidditch champion to boot. Peter the devious one, always ready with a sly joke or a new scheme for getting into mischief. And Remus… Remus had been the sweet one, the quietly intelligent boy with gentle hands and a kind smile.

The irony of it was by no means lost on him – that he had managed to get a reputation for gentleness and sweetness, when in reality he was one of the most uncontrollable, vicious and bloodthirsty kinds of monsters in the wizarding world. The pretty girls who giggled and pretended to swoon when he walked past, just to see him blush – how would their expressions change if they knew the truth?

He could fool them, but he could not fool himself. Let them think that it was just some adorable form of shyness which sent him backing hastily away whenever they tried to flirt. The façade was useful. But Remus Lupin knew – and had known for many years – that he was destined to live a life devoid of romantic love. There would be no wife, no girlfriends, no lovers. It wasn't fair, but it had been made brutally clear to him at a very young age that there was little point in expecting life to be fair.

He was dangerous. It was through no fault of his own, but the stark fact remained. And the danger was not confined to twelve hours of darkness once a month. The disease he was afflicted with was not just very painful but potentially very contagious. No one was exactly sure whether lycanthropy was sexually transmittable, because werewolves didn't generally live long enough to take lovers before they took their own lives. If any had, the details of the union had not been recorded. And whether it was an inheritable condition was anyone's guess.

No, it was clear to Remus he could never be more than friends with any woman. The risk was too great. If someone he cared for were to contract from him the nightmare he endured… It was just unthinkable. He could withstand a lot, but he knew instinctively that he would never be able to reconcile himself to the knowledge that he had perpetuated his horrific curse.

So he avoided them. Ultimately, he had found their company wasn't worth the torment of loneliness and desire they represented. It was easier, much easier, to be alone.

But the witch on the train he had not been able to avoid. Literally. 

And who was she, anyway? A new teacher? Part of him fervently hoped she was not. He didn't want to go through anything like he had been put through in the past few minutes again for a very long time.

But still, those startling blue eyes, and the incredible warmth of her body. . . 

As Remus stepped off the train, he was immediately cut to the bone by the gusting of a bitter breeze which tugged at his robes and hair. He raised his face to the pale, high-domed sky, and inhaled deeply, letting the sharp air burn his lungs. There was a long, cold winter stretching ahead, but he was resigned to that. He was used to the cold. 

Yet he knew it would be a long time indeed before he would forgot how it had felt to hold such a soft heat close within the circle of his arms… if only for an instant.


	6. The School

****

.Chapter 6.

Elena stood by the window of her room, looking out over the picturesque grounds of Hogwarts School. With her thumb and index finger she twirled a small clover-shaped locket that hung on a gold chain around her neck. She had just come from meeting the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, and in a perverse sort of way the overwhelming instinct she had felt to trust the man almost served to make her more wary. Reflecting on this, she acknowledged that she had been alone with only her fear and her memories for company for much too long.

A few short days ago she had been living a life where just one lapse in concentration, just one careless word, just one tiny concession to loneliness could mean the difference between survival and death. It was going to be difficult to adjust to the idea of having friends. 

But the Headmaster had been so very kind, and very helpful. He had even managed to make her laugh. Elena had forgotten how much she loved to laugh. By the sheer force of his luminous personality he had managed to make her feel reassured. Almost safe.

Almost.

But not quite. The fear was always there. She knew, deep down, that Hogwarts could only be a temporary reprieve. They would not rest until they had her. She knew by the chill that huddled next to her heart that they were out there still - searching, sniffing, hunting…

Shaking her head firmly against the direction her thoughts were taking, she turned from the window and wrenched a set of simple blue dress robes from her wardrobe. Dumping them on the bed, she set about preparing for the welcoming feast. She was angry with herself. Instead of wasting time on phantom fears, she ought to be concentrating on the trial that was immediately before her - her first meeting with her fellow teachers at Hogwarts, and even more intimidating, her introduction to a hall full of boisterous young witches and wizard students.

And then, of course, there was the Grey Eyed Man. For the umpteenth time, Elena felt her thoughts drifting back to the stranger on the train. He had been on his way to Hogwarts, so he was sure to be at the feast. But would he affect her as he had before? Wouldn't it be embarrassing if she were to loose her voice again in his presence? How had he done that to her, anyway? Had he meant to? And what if the whole thing had been her imagination? What if she was starting to loose her mind? What if she were sent away from Hogwarts as an impostor and a failure, and - ?

She felt her nervousness increasing sharply, and clamped down on her wayward imagination.

No. They were stupid thoughts, silly doubts. She could do this.

So she might have no teaching experience. She might have memories that could cripple her with despair if she ever gave herself over to them entirely. She might even be going a little mad. But she had two weapons. For one thing, she _was_ actually very knowledgeable about her field, and she was a good Charmer. She would be good at this job. And secondly, she was strong. Stronger than she had ever dreamed she could be.

She didn't know why Dumbledore had offered her this position, but she did know that she couldn't have kept running forever. This job might yet be her lifeline.

She wasn't about to blow this chance.


	7. The Introduction

****

.Chapter 7.

Remus knew the moment she entered the room. 

He had deliberately avoided watching the door, so he did not see her walk in. He couldn't quite say which of his senses had detected her presence. All he knew was that one moment he had been talking quite normally to Professor McGonagall, and in the next, the hairs on the back of his neck were prickling and of its own volition, his posture straightened slightly. His head turned, and there she was.

She was wearing dark blue robes, unpretentious and simple. Her dark hair was braided and wound up in a thick loop at the nape of her neck. She still looked a little strained, but she smiled when Dumbledore stepped forward to greet her and the action softened the tension in her features, giving observers an unexpected glimpse of the beauty which her habitual expression of wary exhaustion concealed.

Remus turned back to Professor McGonagall and tried to pay no more attention to the stranger, but he could not seem to resist watching from the corner of his eye as Dumbledore offered the woman his arm with extravagant charm, and began to lead her about the room, making introductions. Focusing on the Headmaster's genial baritone, Remus caught the words "Elena Greenstone . . . our newest addition . . . a lucky find . . . haven't had a competent Charmer on staff for twenty years . . . "

So, she was to be a teacher. He wondered how he felt about that. Before he had a chance to decide, he saw that Dumbledore was already steering the young witch towards him and Professor McGonagall, smiling as his eyes twinkled merrily. Unconsciously, Remus gripped the goblet in his right hand a little tighter. 

"Minerva," the Headmaster said beneficently, addressing the older professor first, "I would like you to meet Elena Greenstone, a very gifted Charmer who was kind enough to agree to my request that she visit our school in a teaching capacity. Elena, this is Professor Minerva McGonagall, our Transfiguration teacher here at Hogwarts and the head of Gryffindor house."

Professor McGonagall smiled slightly, but her expression remained stern. She offered the younger witch her hand, and Elena took it. They shook firmly, holding one another's gaze, each taking measure of the other. Whatever McGonagall saw she must have liked well enough, because a moment later she nodded as though something had been confirmed between them. "Welcome to Hogwarts, Professor Greenstone."

The new witch shook her head. "Just Miss Greenstone," she corrected quietly, "I have no official academic training."

Professor McGonagall's eyebrow quirked, and she shot a swift glance at Dumbledore, whose beaming smile did not falter. "Miss Greenstone is with us to instruct the students in ways of the Charmers," he said, pre-empting his colleague's questions. "Only this morning she was kind enough to give me a demonstration of her skills, and I could not fault them. I think she will be a fine teacher, and a welcome addition to our staff here."

Remus observed the exchange very carefully, unable to help noticing that Miss Greenstone had not looked once in his own direction. Whether this was the result of shyness or a show of deliberate hostility he did not know. Perhaps she had been told now of his affliction, and was embarrassed? Or even worse, afraid?

He would soon know for certain. He had a lifetime's experience in reading the emotions of strangers from the smallest flickers in their expressions. When you were a werewolf, it helped to know where you stood with people.

Then Dumbledore turned to face him, and the woman turned with him. She looked up into his face, and her expression immediately became guarded and a little uncertain. "Miss Greenstone, this is Professor Lupin. He's rejoining us here at Hogwarts after a year's absence as the Defence Against Dark Arts teacher, a position he'll be sharing with Professor Moody. Professor Lupin, this is Miss Greenstone."

Gravely, Remus extended his hand. "Miss Greenstone," he acknowledged, nodding slightly.

Her gaze flickered down to his outstretched hand. She hesitated briefly, then seemed to steel herself and slipped her hand into his. His fingers curled around hers, and he was astonished to feel the rough texture of callouses on her palm.

She lifted her gaze and looked at him directly, her blue eyes locking with his grey. "Call me Elena," she said quietly.

He nodded once. "Remus," he indicated to himself.

And that was when she smiled. 

The lines of strain and wariness faded instantly. Remus's breath caught in his throat, and his heart lurched painfully. _Beautiful…_

Somewhere off the his right, he registered Dumbledore's low chuckle.

Turning slightly away from the pair he had just introduced, the old Headmaster addressed the rest of the room. "Esteemed colleagues, it is time for us to proceed to the Dining Hall where the students await the start of a new school year, no doubt with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Now, Professor Lupin, if you would be so kind as to release our new teacher, I intend to beg the role of her escort to the Welcoming Feast."

Remus and Elena dropped one another's hands so fast it was nothing less than comical. Remus was sure he could feel his face heating up, and his only consolation was that none of the other staff seemed to have noticed their small breach of conduct. If they had, they were doing a very good job of pretending obliviousness.

Elena, for her part, managed to keep her expression blank and fought back the urge to blush. With studied calmness, she turned to slip her hand onto Dumbledore's proffered arm, took a deep breath, raised her chin, and walked with him through the enormous oaken doors that opened into the Great Hall.


	8. The Welcoming Feast

****

.Chapter 8.

"You never attended Hogwarts, did you, Miss Greenstone?" Minerva McGonagall's stern voice contained a lilt of curiosity that Elena could not mistake.

She took a sip of her pumpkin juice, then answered carefully. "No, Professor McGonagall. I never did. I am sorry for it, it is a very beautiful school." She heard the cool formality of her words, and winced inwardly. _Just relax_, she told herself. _McGonagall is trying to be friendly. Have you forgotten how to conduct pleasant conversation? Surely it hasn't been _that_ long…_

"Where did you go to school? If you don't mind my asking?" Minerva tried again. Elena had the feeling that being social with strangers was not something that came easily to the older woman, either. The thought made her feel a little less intimidated, but not much. 

The Great Hall was just so enormous! And so noisy! Long tables of excited, chattering students filled her field of vision when she looked up from the head table. Massive banners hung suspended in mid air over each section of the hall, differentiating the four houses. The decorations were gorgeous, the feast itself was sumptuous, and despite the dark and ever-present threat of Voldemort's revival, the atmosphere in the cavernous dining hall was bright, positive and confident.

Elena had never felt so out of place. There had to have been some mistake. She did not belong in this place. She belonged in the shadows, alone with her nightmares. Her past was a burden that only she could carry. Sharing the load could only lead others into the web of danger that had her trapped, and it was only a matter of time before the spider came creeping back for her. When that happened, she had to be found alone. Anyone close to her would share her fate. It had happened before. She could not let it happen again!

But Professor McGonagall had asked her a question, and the necessity of answering coherently helped Elena to fight off the rising attack of panic. 

Considering the question, she realised she had no choice but to answer truthfully, or be caught later in the lie. She chose to tell the truth. "I never attended a proper magic school," she answered simply, "I grew up in a Muggle community on a remote island off the coast of England." 

"Were your parents Muggles, then?" That question from her right. Elena turned her head sharply and realised she was being addressed by the Grey-Eyed Man. Remus Lupin. She had not been aware that he had been listening.

"No," she replied shortly, though she was not actually offended by the question. She knew her upbringing had been strange. 

"My parents were a witch and a wizard," she explained, "But they were … reclusive. They seemed to want nothing to do with wizard society. My brother and sister and I attended a Muggle school, and to the rest of our little village we _were_ Muggles. But at home we learned a lot, both from my parents and from the books of magic which belonged once to my grandfather. Apparently he was a scholar…" Elena's voice trailed off as she realised that all teacher's faces at the head table were turned curiously towards her, and all other conversation had ceased. A moment later, as if they had sensed her anxiety, the heads turned away and polite chatter resumed.

All except Remus Lupin. He was still looking at her with the strange, direct intensity that so disconcerted her. Pretending to ignore him, she picked up her fork and took a small mouthful of honey-buttered groat. He chose that moment to speak again, his voice soft and inaudible to any at the table save her. "Were you happy there, living with the Muggles? Even though it was not the life you would have chosen for yourself?"

Elena was astonished by his questions. How had he known about her adolescent dissatisfaction with her isolated Muggle island life? The petulant anger she had felt at having her life's decisions made for her by her parents, for reasons that no one would explain to her? The guilt that consumed her, now that… now that…

She had to force herself to swallow, and found her throat unexpectedly dry. "I - " she began, then paused to reconsider. "Yes," she said at last, stealing a glance at his face from beneath her lowered eyelashes. "I was happy with my family."

"Then why did you leave?"

Elena took a sharp breath as the unintentional cruelty of his inquiry stabbed at her. "Because," she replied, her voice quiet and tight as she bowed her head again to blink away the tears that pricked infuriatingly at her eyelids, "My family is dead."


	9. The Lone Wolf

**.Chapter 9.**

For a long moment, Remus was silent.Finally Elena raised her eyes to meet his, her face set in a defensive mask that dared him to ask her any more questions.But the stricken guilt in his expression and the infinite sadness and compassion in his beautiful grey eyes stole away her resentment, effectively stripping her of defences and leaving her carefully concealed pain raw and exposed before his unblinking, all seeing gaze.

"I'm sorry, Elena, I - " 

She shook her head and held up her hand, begging him to stop."Don't apologise," she whispered, "It wasn't your fault.You weren't to know.Can we please … not talk about it any more?"

For a moment Remus looked as though there was something else he would have liked to say.But what ever it was, he restrained himself, and his face relaxed into a crooked half smile.She smiled back out of sheer relief that he was not going to press the subject, or continue his assault on her hard-won composure with that soul-searing gaze of his.

"Very well," he said softly, then his voice changed and took on a more conversational tone."Perhaps you can satisfy my curiosity on this score.What is it that a Charmer actually does?I'm aware of the basic concept of course, but your type of magic is rare, and I confess I know almost nothing about the practicalities of it."

Elena was overwhelmingly grateful for the distraction he had provided her with.She threw herself behind the topic with enthusiasm born of sheer relief, but at the same time she was rather pleased to have the chance to explain her Gift, because very few people did understand Charming.She said as much, and added that in some wizarding circles the practice of Charming was actually regarded with a kind of wary mistrust, and compared with the Unforgivable curse, _Imperius._

"It's not a fair comparison, though," she said emphatically, determined to make her point, "Charming is not about control, it's about … harmonising.Trust.That's why Charming is so difficult to perform with a human subject.Humans don't trust one another enough to enable the magic.So usually a Charmer works with animals.She harnesses natural magic to link with the creature's mind, and then the animal decides whether or not it will allow further … melding.If the Charmer is not accepted, there is nothing she can do but break the link.But if she is accepted, then the two minds become … combined.They complement one another.The subject is therefore aware of … influences … from the mind of the Charmer.Not co-ersion. But because the two minds are melded, they are completely aware of one another, so whatever the Charmer would like the animal to do, the animal understands it, and complies if it feels inclined.But the subject can break off the link at any time, so it's impossible to force anyone, human or animal, to do something they don't want to do, no matter how Gifted a Charmer you are.Human subjects usually break off the link instantly, often without even being consciously aware that it was ever made at all.It's instinctive.Our minds are so much more complex and private than an animal's.We have too much to hide to let anyone inside our heads.Animals are … simper.More pure.Less suspicious."

Elena broke off, realising suddenly that she had just spoken more words in five minutes than she had in all of the twelve months preceding.But Remus was still looking at her, still listening attentively.

"You love animals, then," he observed seriously.It was not a question, but she shrugged and nodded.

"Yes. More than people sometimes … most of the time.Most Charmers are the same.I know my mother was…"But she had not meant to speak of her mother.She did not want to remember.Not again.Not tonight.

Remus sensed her withdrawal, and gently turned the conversation.

"Do you have a favourite?Animal, that is?"

Elena seemed to consider the question, then her mouth quirked slightly.She turned her head and looked him dead in the eye.

"Yes," she replied firmly, "My favourite animals are wolves."****

** **

Only by a supreme exertion of will did Remus manage to conceal his shock at her words.Did she _know_?

His gaze flickered sharply to where Dumbledore was sitting.The old Headmaster was the only one he could think of who might have dispensed such a piece of information to a woman whom Remus scarcely knew.But as he turned his head he found Dumbledore already looking back at him.Their gazes locked, and he saw the older man give a slight shake of his head.

_No.She does not know._

Relieved, but still bemused, Remus turned his attention back to Elena.He consciously tried to keep his tone casual as he asked, "Really?Why wolves?"

Again, some strange, secretive expression seemed to flit across her features as she considered her answer."I'm not sure, exactly," she spoke slowly, her dark blue eyes focusing somewhere in empty space, "I suppose I've always felt some kind of … affinity with them.The lone wolf, especially.The wolf that can survive alone, without a pack, is the strongest of them all.It needs no one, has nothing to loose...And that kind of animal is … dangerous."

Remus watched her face carefully as she spoke, his sharp gaze taking in every tiny shift in expression.He knew for certain now that she was not thinking of him when she spoke of wolves.When he spoke, his voice was soft."And that is that how you see yourself, then?Alone?Needing no one?Dangerous…?"

Her eyes flew to meet his, and she looked startled."I - Yes," she replied cautiously, after a moment's hesitation, "Yes, I suppose I do."

He was too good at this game.Elena felt a little dizzy, wondering what carefully concealed remnant of her tattered psyche he was going to expose next.

Desperate to forestall his next round of incisive observations, she forced a wry smile."Wait now, Professor Lupin, why are we still talking about me?If we carry on in this way, you will know all there is to know about me before dessert is on the table, and then we will have nothing left to say to each other for the rest of year."

Remus acknowledged her withdrawal with a slow smile, and leaned back in his chair.His steady grey eyes remained fixed upon her, and something warm flickered in their depths.Elena began to feel warm herself, and looked down only to find that she was twisting her napkin in her lap like some ridiculous schoolgirl.She forced her hands to stillness, but could not look at him.

"Miss Greenstone," he replied quietly, after a brief moment of silence, "Something tells me that it would take a lot more than one dinnertime conversation to learn all there is to know about you.A _lot_ more."

He spoke with a smile behind his words, but Elena's expression remained serious.There was something in his tone that frightened her."Remus – " she began urgently, then stopped, faintly shocked by her instinctive use of his first name - an unintended intimacy.Shrugging it off, she pressed on."Remus, there's something you have to – "

But at that moment, a small explosion at the Gryffindor sixth years' table sent a billowing cloud of violet smoke into the air.Professor McGonagall leapt instantly to her feet, muttering about 'those Cursed twins', and girls began to squeal as they realised their skin and hair were rapidly turning purple.The Great Hall erupted into confusion which was swiftly subdued as the charm was reversed, and the twin boys responsible for the prank were chastised by Professor McGonagall.

But the moment was lost, and Elena never did complete her sentence.


	10. The Fire

**.Chapter 10.**

** **

It was Snape, ultimately, who brought Remus back down to earth.

He had been so totally absorbed in the enigma that was Elena Greenstone that he had, for an hour at least, forgotten all about his own problems.His own … restrictions.Never in his life had he experienced anything quite like her.She represented such a fascinating collection of paradoxes: of confidence and shyness, openness and evasion, intelligence and naivety, hostility and warmth.

Warmth.Now there was a word he couldn't help associating with her.Or if not with her, exactly, then with his reaction to her.That he was attracted to her he saw little point in denying.And he had fought attraction, even lust, many many times before.But with Elena it was something more, something he could only describe as … heat.When she was around, something inside him ignited – a fire that touched every level of his consciousness, filling all of the cold places inside him with heat and light.And for once in his life he had absolutely _no_ desire to analyse what he was feeling.

But no sooner had Elena left his side after the feast, claiming weariness after her journey that morning, then the glow faded and the realities of his situation began to hit home.

Professor Snape, a man Remus had never gotten along particularly well with, caught his eye and raised a sardonic black eyebrow, glancing meaningfully at Elena's retreating back.The implication was obvious._What exactly do you think you're playing at, Lupin?_

Turning his face away, Remus grimaced painfully.Had he really been so obvious?Thinking back on the evening, he realised that he had.Only someone blind, deaf and dumb could have failed to notice his interest in the new teacher.For Merlin's sake, he hadn't been able to take his eyes off her all night!And neither of them had spoken above a dozen words to any one else at their table.If he had shouted his infatuation from the astronomy tower, he couldn't have made it more obvious…

Hell's curse, he was a _werewolf_.Had he forgotten that?He could _not_ permit himself to fall in -To get involved with a woman.Certainly not a woman as complicated and secretive as Elena Greenstone, and most _definitely_ not a woman who _did not know what he was_.

A horrible coldness began to settle around his heart.What had he been thinking?He was going to have to see this woman every day for the next year.If he let himself think, even for moment, that there could ever be anything between them…

"Remus," a quiet voice at his elbow intoned.

He spun quickly, and found himself facing an uncommonly grave-looking Dumbledore.

"If you don't mind, Remus, I would like a word with you, in private.It concerns a rather serious matter.Is now convenient?"

Remus nodded mutely, his thoughts swirling and his stomach tightening in apprehension.Had Dumbledore noticed his undeniable penchant for the new teacher?Did he disapprove?How could he not?

Or was he finally going to reveal the real reason for his mysterious summons?Remus remembered the letter he had received._For your safety, and for ours…_

Raking a hand through his thick grey-flecked hair, Remus suppressed a bewildered sigh, and followed Dumbledore from the room.


	11. The Gift of Light

A/N: A huge thank you to everyone who's kept up with this story and reviewed

**A/N: **A huge thank you to everyone who's kept up with this story and reviewed.Eclecticmum, Kittenmommy, lily luna, Crookshanksthecat, MicroMouse, Mage Melery, Aaren, Snow Lily, Inane Author, venus black…You all have my undying gratitude.Sorry that I haven't been so quick getting this up – real life keeps getting in the way.You know how it is.: )The next instalment shouldn't be more than a day or two away, so keep checking, K?And keep reviewing, too…Words cannot express the extremes of delight which I derive getting reviews. ; )This chapter should answer a few questions for you, although it will probably create some new ones, too.*evil grin*Enjoy!

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**.Chapter 11.**

Looking around Dumbledore's office, Remus felt very faintly comforted by the knowledge that some things, at least, did not change.He still remembered with startling clarity the wide-eyed little boy who had stood on this very threshold over twenty years ago, gazing about with awe and terror fighting for precedence in the pit of his stomach.The well-lit room with its bright tapestries, intriguing cabinets and enormous fireplace looked a little smaller now than it had then, but apart from that the differences were negligible.

"Please sit down," Dumbledore gestured vaguely at the plush armchair which faced his own beside the hearth.In the grate, a fire crackled softly.

Remus complied, watching apprehensively as the Headmaster followed suit.

"You know, in all honesty I find myself longing for small talk," the older wizard said presently, steepling his fingers and peering benignly at Remus over the top of his glasses, "For I would very much like to know about the year you have spent away from us.But catching up will regrettably have to wait for another day.Other matters are at hand."

His expression became more serious."You may, I suspect, have already guessed the subject I wish to speak with you about.It concerns Miss Greenstone."

Remus suppressed a wince, and nodded wearily."Professor, I know what you're going to say, and I assure you – "

But Dumbledore held up one hand in a gesture of silence."I doubt very much, Remus, that you do know what I'm going to say.You might have guessed the subject, but not the subject matter."He paused, as if choosing his next words with care."You are aware, I think, that Elena Greenstone is not an ordinary witch.Her background is unusual, her Gift is rare, and her past contains certain … painful events … which she may or may not have chosen to talk about."

Remus's eyebrows drew together in a frown, surprised at the direction Dumbledore's conversation was taking.He nodded soberly."She told me her family is dead.I don't know any more than that.But you only need to look into her eyes to know that she has suffered."

"Yes," Dumbledore's voice seemed sad, "I thought you would notice that.She has indeed borne more pain and loss than one person should ever be forced to endure, but much worse that, she has borne it all on her own.I only wish she had written to me sooner."

"Sir?" Remus was confused.

The old Headmaster looked at him sharply, then sighed."There is a lot that I need you to understand, Remus, if you are to undertake the role I have in mind for you.It is difficult to know where to begin.Elena didn't tell you, I suppose, how her family died?"

"No.She didn't want to talk about it.Understandably."

"Then I will have to tell you.I know I don't need to say this, but I shall: what I am about to tell you must not go beyond this room."

Remus frowned."No, of course not."

"Good.Because Elena Greenstone's family did not die peaceful deaths.They were murdered by Death Eaters, a little under twelve months ago."

Remus felt as though he had been punched."Murdered?"He repeated weakly.The image of Elena's face surfaced in his mind, twisted in pain as she blinked at her tears._My family is dead…_He clenched his fists, overwhelmed with helpless empathy for the young Charmer's grief."Why…?"He managed, and Dumbledore seemed to understand.

"I do not know for certain why her family was targeted.But I do have my suspicions.And if those suspicions are correct, then it is safe to assume that Miss Greenstone's life is in very serious danger."

"And does Elena know this?" Remus demanded sharply, "That her life is in danger?"He did not even notice that he had used her first name.Dumbledore did, but did not comment.

"She is aware, yes," he replied gravely, "What she does not know is _why_.As I understand it she only narrowly escaped the scene of her family's murder, and experienced another attempt on her life very soon after that.Since that day she has been on the run from a nameless and persistent enemy, too afraid to stop in one place for more than a night or two, and too frightened to hold a conversation with a stranger lest they remember her face.Trying all the while, without success, to discover the motive behind the attacks.Struggling to understand why anyone would want to see her entire family annihilated.With her family gone and her few friends consisting of Muggles from a village she could never return to, I think you'll appreciate the depths of her anguish.She was totally, absolutely alone in the world."

The old man's gaze turned to the leaping flames in the grate.His expression became introspective."It was about two weeks ago," he went on, "That I received her letter.In it, she explained that she had seen my picture on a dropped collectors card, and had noticed a strong resemblance between myself and her own late father.She asked if I was connected in any way with her family, and if so, whether I knew anything at all that might help her uncover the answers she searched for."

"And…?What were you able to tell her?"

"I told her nothing."

"What?Why _not_?Surely she has a right to know - "

"Remus, I said I had my suspicions.I am certain of nothing.And until I am sure, there is nothing I can say to Miss Greenstone that will make her life any easier.It is too serious a matter to be spoken of lightly.Voldemort is on the rise again, and if this woman is who I think she is, her identity will be her death warrant.But I may be mistaken.Telling her of my suspicions now will only increase her already considerable burden, perhaps unnecessarily.Soon I will be sure.Until then, she is safer in ignorance."

Remus released a long breath."Very well, Professor.I won't question your decision.I'm sure you have your reasons.But I still don't understand why she is in danger, or where I fit into all this."

"I am getting to that.It's not an easy thing to explain.For you to make any sense of it, I think I will have to go back very long way, so I ask in advance for your patience with an old man's ramblings."Dumbledore paused, collecting his thoughts.

"It all began over a century ago, with a very brilliant young wizard known as Phoebus.Only one other could rival his powers, and that was a fierce young witch named Justina.After a long and rather terrifying courtship, they managed to pause long enough between duels to get married.After a few years, Justina fell pregnant, and there was never any question that the child was going to be an impressively talented witch or wizard.But Phoebus and Justina took things one step further.Working together, they created a unique spell which penetrated Justina's womb and seeped into the very lifeblood of their child.It's purpose was to ensure that all the considerable talents of both Phoebus and his wife were combined and inherited, at the same time as giving the unborn baby a measure of protection against the influence of Unforgivable curses.Not immunity, of course.Just a few extra defences.

In any case, the child was born.They named him Lux, and as expected, he grew up more powerful than both his parents.But the gift had its limitations.For example, his extraordinary magical ability was strictly limited to White magic.When it came to performing Dark magic or Curses or even the simplest of Hexes, Lux's ability was that of any ordinary wizard.But this did not matter much, because he was a man with extremely rigid ideas of right and wrong.He held the Dark Arts in contempt, and did not regret the limitation of his gift.

When Lux married, he fathered sons.Twin sons."At this, Dumbledore's face seemed to close over slightly, but his voice did not falter as he continued with his story."He named the boys Aurorus and Albus, and of course, they both inherited their grandparents' gifts.As the years passed, they became known as Dumbledore's Heirs."

For a long moment, Remus was silent.Then he said, very softly, "I never knew you had a brother, Professor."

Dumbledore sighed."Very few people do know.But there is a good reason for this.Give me a chance, and I will explain."


	12. The Twin

****

.Chapter 12.

With a sombre expression unsoftened by any hint of nostalgia, Dumbledore continued his story. "Right from the start," he said, his voice edged with a curious flatness, "Lux envisaged all the great things that his gifted sons would achieve. He had, as I mentioned, very rigid ideals, and valued discipline and morality above all things. He saw everything in black and white, which is as you know a dangerous thing in a world made up of so many shades of grey.

Now as a boy, my brother was always the quieter one, the shier personality. He intensely disliked the fame that was forced upon him by his special magical inheritance. More than anything, though, he hated trying to live up to the demands our father made on us. At first, we both tried to live up to all his expectations, Aurorus and I, but it seemed that no matter how hard we tried, nothing we achieved was good enough to please him. 

As the years passed, Aurorus grew more and more resentful of this, and more and more rebellious. While I concealed my dissatisfaction and continued to seek my father's approval, my brother began to defy him. Subtly at first, then brazenly as his frustration mounted. Finally, late one night, they worked themselves up into a blazing row, and I was barely able to keep them from Cursing one another into oblivion. My father demanded that Aurorus leave the house and never come back. And that's exactly what my brother did. He marched out of the room, out the front door, and my father never saw him again.

Not long after that, Lux was killed. The Dark Wizard, Grindlewald, was gaining power at a frightening rate, and for all that Lux was a great wizard, he was also an old man worn down by a lifetime of misplaced pride and deep regrets. Grindlewald tricked him into a duel for which my father was unprepared, but the Dark Wizard still only just managed to defeat the older man. He then made it his business to come after Aurorus and I. Destroying the entire Dumbledore line would, of course, be a great victory for Dark Magic, and Grindlewald was determined to claim it.

At this time, I had not seen or heard from my brother for several years, and had no reason to believe that he was aware of the danger he was in. Desperate to warn him, I began a race against time to track him down before Grindlewald could. I finally located Aurorus in a small wizard community in rural France - but he did not seem particularly pleased to see me. His estrangement from our father had driven a wedge between us, too. I saw his rebellion as childish and unnecessary, and he saw my acceptance of the old man's tyranny as cowardly and favour-seeking. The news of Lux's death only seemed to carve the wounds deeper. The closeness we had shared as children had long-since dissolved, and I realised then that it was never going to be recovered." Dumbledore seemed to brood on that thought for moment, his bright eyes hooded and dim. But his lapse was brief, and with a quick shake of his head he threw off his melancholy and pressed on.

"Nevertheless, we were very civil with one another, and he introduced me to a shy, pretty little French witch named Sabrina, explaining that they intended to marry before the summer was over. 

Though I was happy for him, this news only increased the urgency of my warning. The moment we were alone, I told him about Grindlewald's determination to see the Heirs Of Dumbledore eliminated. 

Aurorus was horrified, of course, but not on his own behalf. He was confronted with the shattering realisation that his magical inheritance would put Sabrina in mortal danger - not to mention the children they one day hoped to have. Devastated, he begged me to leave him alone for a while so that he could compose himself for the ordeal that had been placed before him – telling Sabrina that he had to leave her forever.

I complied, and left the room to sleep off the exhaustion of several weeks relentless searching. When I awoke the next morning the room was bright with sunshine but the house was silent. I found a letter next to my bed, signed by my brother. In it, he explained that Sabrina had come to him during the night. Knowing at once that something was wrong, she had goaded him into telling her what I had warned him of, and what he intended to do about it. But she had refused to let him leave her, and in the course of their ensuing argument Aurorus became convinced of the futility of his resolution to part from her. Instead, they eloped that very night, and Aurorus's letter spoke of their intention to leave the wizarding world behind them forever. 

I wished them luck, burned the letter, and returned to my own life.

Well, for several years, that was that. I heard nothing from him. Grindlewald was defeated, but Aurorus and Sabrina did not emerge from hiding. I did not know if they were alive or dead. Then finally, one morning out of the blue, a rather weather-beaten little owl swooped down on my breakfast table and delivered one tiny, travel stained envelope. Inside was a note, which read simply, 

__

"A son born last night. 'Brina and I both ecstatic. Only heard this year that Grindlewald was defeated – we don't get much in the way of wizard news out here. Well done, anyway. We discussed returning to your world now that the threat of G. is gone, but decided against it. Perhaps you will wonder at this choice – or perhaps not. Perhaps you of all people will understand that among wizards, my son is the Heir of Dumbledore, and subject to all the responsibility, pressure and danger that goes with the title. I don't want for him the life that I had. I don't want to become our father. 'Brina and I are happy where we are, and happiness is all the inheritance we wish upon our son. Hope you are well. A." "

There was another pause.

Then Dumbledore remarked in an almost conversational tone, "I still have that letter, you know. There was no return address, though, and it was the last I ever heard of my brother, my sister-in-law or my nephew."


	13. The Task

**.Chapter 13.**

Throughout the story, Remus had respected Dumbledore's request for patience while he finished the tale, and had deliberately restrained himself from blurting out the questions that hammered in his brain.

Now, however, some of the fog was beginning to clear, and pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fall into place.But Remus wasn't at all sure he like the picture that was forming.

"You think – " he began, then stopped and cleared his throat.His voice had grown rough."You think Elena is an Heir of Dumbledore, don't you?You think she is your brother's child?"

"Grandchild, yes.And if that is indeed the case, then it is very likely that she is an Heir of Dumbledore."

"You sound uncertain, though." 

"That's because I am uncertain.I told you, Remus – I have no proof.Only scattered pieces of circumstantial evidence.Resemblances, patterns that could be co incidences, 'gifts' that might be no more than natural talents.For instance, there is the fact that Elena saw a resemblance between myself and her late father.That is a very weak link, I agree.But Aurorus was my twin, and it is reasonable to assume that their son took after us both is appearance.

Then there is the matter of names.You may have noticed during the course of my story that the Dumbledores have a penchant for naming their children in accordance with a theme.My grandfather was Phoebus, meaning Sun God.My father was Lux – 'light'.My brother and I – Aurorus for 'dawn' and Albus for 'white'.Aurorus never did tell me what they named their son, but Elena has told me that her father's name was Amon – the name of another god of the sun.She had a sister named Dawne, and Elena itself means – "

"Shining one," Remus finished for him, speaking under his breath.He sounded defeated.

Dumbledore looked sideways at him."Yes," he agreed slowly, and there was a faint edge of speculation in his tone."However, she also mentioned a brother whose name was Gerald.As far as I can tell, this name has nothing to do with light at all, which rather disrupts the neatness of my theory.

And of course, if she is the daughter of Aurorus's son, her last name ought to Dumbledore, not Greenstone.But on the other hand, it would have been foolish for Aurorus and Sabrina to go into hiding under their own names, even in the Muggle world.So it is probably to be expected that she has not inherited the Dumbledore surname.Whatever her heritage is, it has been kept from her.Her parents were apparently very secretive about their family history, and vehemently opposed to their children having anything to do with the wizarding world.From what I can tell, Aurorus's fear that a Dark Wizard would discover his family was absorbed by his son, and the boy, not fully understanding the nature of his father's concern, learned to fear the all the wizarding world - almost to the point of paranoia."

Remus was watching Dumbledore's face closely as he spoke, knowing that he was building up to something.Something momentous.He held his own and waited to hear what it was.Sure enough, the Headmaster's tone began to change, and he leaned forward in his armchair, his eyes bright.

"But there is one thing, Remus, that has affected my suspicions more than any of these vague fragments of evidence.

You might have surmised by now that Elena has received scarcely a shred of real training in the magical arts.She went to a Muggle school, rejected her letter of acceptance to Hogwarts at the insistence of her parents, and just learned what she could from old spell books that she said had belonged to her grandfather.The only real magical instruction she received was as a Charmer.That she learned from her mother, who no doubt recognised that her daughter had inherited her gift and was able to teach the girl herself.Beyond that, what little she knows has all been self taught.And Remus – I watched her casting spells.She's clumsy and she doesn't always get it exactly right.But she is _powerful_.She only knows the most basic levitation charm, the kind we teach to first years, but she could lift buildings with it and not raise a sweat.She'd never heard of a summoning charm, so I demonstrated it to her, and she was summoning trunks from her upstairs bedroom on her third try.She has talent that I can't help but suspect is more than that.So yes, you are correct when you surmise that I suspect she is Aurorus's granddaughter."

Remus avoided the Headmaster's gaze and stared into the fire."I suppose that would explain why Death Eaters targeted her family," he speculated slowly, "They discovered somehow that the Greenstones were related to you and had the potential to be just as powerful.It's a strong motive for murder.But surely Elena has a right to know all of this?Not only because she needs to know why her family died, but because if it's true, then you … well, you are all that she has left."

Dumbledore leaned back, and his tone became very serious."I know that," he said quietly, "But I must first I be _sure_.And I will be.There is a spell - a potion actually, which Severus is working on probably as we speak.It works like this – when two people drink it and then prick their index finger tips and dip them into a bowl of clear water, then the liquid in the bowl will thicken and turn to gold – _if_ they share a common ancestor.Blood is thicker than water, see?But if the two are not related, there is no change.Unfortunately, the potion takes a month to prepare.And until then, all **_I_ **can do is wait."

His emphasis on 'I' did not escape the younger man's notice."I see," Remus said quietly, after a pause.The last pieces of the puzzle were dropping neatly into place._For your safety, **and for ours**_…

"She is in danger, Remus," Dumbledore reminded him gravely, "Even if she is not my grandniece, it is obvious that the Death Eaters have some reason to wish her harm.She has been lucky to survive this long.At Hogwarts we can offer a measure of protection, but not anonymity.I don't doubt that the Death Eaters have traced her here already.They will be waiting for their chance to strike again.They must know she can't defend herself.This, of course, is where you come in."

Remus smiled grimly, but Dumbledore pretended not to notice.

"As our defence against the Dark Arts professor, I propose that you take her into your care.Become her guardian, if you will, and while you're at it, try to teach her all the counter curses you can.Keep her out of danger, don't let her go wandering the grounds alone.Attend her classes when you can – I will be encouraging her to attend all of yours.In two weeks time, the potion will be ready, we know exactly what we are working with, and we'll be able to make some long term plans."The Headmaster's shrewd gaze was fixed on Remus's face."Of course," he added carefully, "The decision of whether to accept this role or not rests entirely with you.It is your choice to make.But quite frankly, Remus, I can think of no one better suited for the job that yourself.No one I would trust more with the responsibility.And …" he hesitated, and smiled a slight, sad smile which Remus had never seen before.

"Well, you said it yourself only minutes ago.If she really is my brother's granddaughter, then I'm all the family she had left in the world.But you have to remember, Remus, that it works both ways.She's all that I have left, too.And if anything were to happen to her ... "

Remus closed his eyes.Thoughts and feelings tumbled over him, conflicting and swirling inside him with a kind of dizzying nausea._Heir of Dumbledore … My family is dead …If anything were to happen to her …No one better suited …Bite of a werewolf … I told her nothing …Did not die peaceful deaths …Absolutely alone in the world …All that I have left ..._

_ _

_By all that's sacred, does he even _know _what he's asking of me?_

_ _

The Headmaster's quiet voice broke through the chaos in his head."If you need more time to think, there is no need for you to answer n - "

"I'll do it."

The words were spoken before he realised he had opened his mouth.

Dumbledore looked a little startled, but then exhaled, smiled, and relaxed back in his chair."Thank you, Remus.I knew I could rely on you.I'm sure you won't regret your decision."

_But that, Headmaster,_ thought Remus dazedly, as he stood up to leave, _Is where you're wrong. _

_ _

_I'm regretting it already_

-_-_-

A/N:Well?Did you like it?Did you? JDo you think you know where it's going?Any suggestions?Complaints?Comments on the weather?Whatever, guys, I don't care – just review me, please!And keep checking back, because if everything goes according to plan then chapter 15 should be about where we start getting into some serious angst, drama, and romance … which is what we're all here for, right?JThanks for reading, everyone!!


	14. The Dream

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.Chapter 13. 

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"…Kelpies, otherwise known as water demons, are found all over the Brisish Isles, but you are fairly unlikely to come under threat from one. Why would that be, do you think, Miss Weasely…? Good suggestion, there's not many around. But the few that are left generally stay clear of humans. When they do decide to approach one, they make no differentiation between Muggles or wizards, and consequently feature quite heavily in Muggle folklore, especially in the rural areas. Tell me, Mr Winterbottom, what would you do if confronted by a Kelpie…? Excellent answer, five points to Hufflepuff… I hope you've all made a note of Mr Winterbottom's answer, it may just save your lives one day. Now, onto grindylows, another esturine danger which you would have covered at least briefly last year…"

For the third time in as many minutes, Elena felt her eyes slipping closed. She jerked upright and shook her head rapidly, trying to stay awake.

It wasn't that the class was boring – far from it. Professor Lupin was an even better teacher than she'd anticipated he would be. He was patient and good humoured, and his students seemed to have genuine respect for him. But how could they not? As far as she was concerned, the gentle dignity of Remus Lupin was impossible to ignore, or resist.

But she was so _tired_. It had been yet another sleepless night. In the hours of darkness, memories and nightmarish visions crowded her brain, and sometimes the two were indistinguishable. During the day, she could fight them back, could fill her mind with other things. But every night as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom, she felt the same fearful nausea creeping back, driving away her sleepiness and leaving her to face each morning even more exhausted than she had been night before.

Her eyelids began to droop again. How frustrating that sleep was so insistent now when she wanted to stay awake, but had been so elusive last night when she had longed for it to come and rescue her from the agony that was consciousness.

Besides, she didn't want to sleep through one of Remus's classes. She had been delighted when Dumbledore had suggested she sit in on them. _Not_ because it was an ideal excuse to stare openly at the mysterious grey-eyed man who still fascinated her beyond reasonable explanation. 

__

Though that **is **a nice bonus, conceded a small voice in her head. She ignored it. 

No, she had been delighted because at last she would be getting the chance to learn some real magic. She knew some basics, of course. Actually, she had even managed to perfect a few pieces of advanced sorcery by scouring the more complex of her grandfather's old books. But there was so much she had never had a chance to learn! And Defence Against the Dark Arts was, above all others, a subject very close to her heart…

Damn, but it was getting difficult to stay focused… The gentle rise and fall of Remus's voice was rhythmic and soothing… She decided vaguely that she liked if … It was a soft, deep voice, smooth as dark velvet … a voice meant for early mornings tangled in sun warmed blankets, and late nights curled beside fires… A tiny smile flitted over her face. If only he knew what she was thinking about right now… If only she were in a position to act upon it … If only she were the same girl she had been twelve months ago … And if only that Gryffindor boy a few seats in front would stop tapping his pencil… So annoying… So … tired …

Tap … tap tap_ … _Tap tap tap…_ Tap tap tap …_

__

All around the quiet room, heads were raised from books or sewing, expressions of mild surprise on their faces.

"Who'd be knocking this late at night?" Gerald wondered aloud, his blue eyes curious as he scrambled up from his place beside the fire and walked toward the door.

"Careful dear," warned Della, shooting a worried glance at her husband, "Pick up your wand first. You never know…"

Elena and Dawne exchanged a look. Paranoid_, they agreed, speaking without words._

But Amon was frowning. "Gerald," he said, beginning to rise from his chair, "Gerald, don't – "

It was too late. The boy swung the door open, and a sharp gust of cold air swept into the warm room. 

Two shadows stood on the threshold.

Elena lowered her book into her lap and squinted, trying to make them out. The figures were wearing dark robes, with cowls pulled low over their faces. It was difficult to say if they were male or female.

__

For a long moment no one moved. Then one of the figures stepped forward, and raised his hand. It took Elena a few seconds to realise he was pointing a wand.

Her breath caught in her throat and shock paralysed her limbs. Before she could do anything, the figure spoke five short words.

"Long live the Dark Lord."

Della's face blanched.

"No – " Amon's fingers tightened on his own wand, concealed in his sleeve, but he didn't even have time to draw it before the stranger spoke again – two words this time. Words Elena had never heard before, but would never forget.

"Avada Kedavra!"

A flash of green light filled the room. Amon Greenstone slid lifelessly from his chair.

A choking sound tore from Elena's paralysed throat.

The man with the wand turned toward the sound, looked straight at her, then began to raise his wand again. His lips started to move. The power gathered, and the green light flashed again. Elena closed her eyes and waited for death, but it did not come. Instead, there was a muffled thump. 

Her eyes fluttered open.

Dawne was on the floor, her face turned down, her dark hair, still damp from a bath, splayed across the wooden floor. Not moving.

And all of a sudden Elena's throat opened, and she screamed …

"Miss Greenstone!"

__

… and screamed …

__

"Miss Greenstone, Elena, wake _up_!" Hands on her shoulders, shaking… What…?

With a strangled gasp, Elena's eyes flew open. She was looking straight into the face of Remus Lupin, which was deeply creased with worry, and possibly even fear.

Wildly, she turned her head from side to side and looked around. The classroom was dead silent. Every student had twisted in their chairs to stare at her, their faces white and shocked.

Oh no. Please no.

Surely she hadn't had the dream in class.

__

Remus's next words confirmed her worst fears. Without taking his eyes off her, he raised his voice to address the class. "Students, you are all dismissed. Report to Professor Spout, she will begin your Herbology lesson early, and then you can finish your afternoon classes ahead of time today."

A low, mystified murmuring started up, but the students did as they were asked, and began collecting their books and filing slowly out of the classroom. To do this, they had to pass Elena's desk. A small-framed girl with bright red hair paused, and said hesitantly, "Are you all right, Miss Greenstone?"

Elena forced a weak smile for the girl, wishing she didn't have to answer. "I – I'm all right. Thank you. It was a – bad dream. Nothing serious, really…"

Remus came to her rescue. "Miss Greenstone will be fine, Miss Weasley. Go on to your next class. I'll take care of her."

Elena swallowed hard, trying to quell the strange surge of emotion she felt when he spoke those words. _I'll take care of her…_

Then the last of the students disappeared, and she suddenly became acutely aware that for the first time since their brief encounter on the train, she was alone with Professor Remus Lupin…

~ ~ ~

__

Author's note: Sorry about the posting gap, hopefully it won't happen again. My computer is having issues with fanfiction.net. Never mind. Hope you enjoyed this. Six new reviews and I'll post the next chapter!! (*hee hee* I'm such a bad person……….) I love writing this.


	15. The Confession

A/N: Hey there Emma Grieve Emma Grieve 1 0 2001-11-01T08:32:00Z 2001-11-01T08:33:00Z 3 1264 7206 (none) 60 14 8849 9.2720 

**_A/N: _**_Hey there. Am sincerely sorry for the long delay – I would have posted this waaay earlier, but as we all know, ff.net has been a little 'out of action' recently… Anyway, I've loved each and every review, so thanks to everyone for persevering and continuing to follow this story. : )_

**.Chapter 15.**

She couldn't look at him.

She'd never felt so foolish.  To have fallen asleep in his class in the first place was embarrassing enough, but to have woken up screaming… she shuddered slightly.  She tried so hard to keep her past hidden, desperate to save herself the pain of reliving it, and to prevent others from becoming involved.  It was too dangerous, both for herself _and_ for them.  Her nightmares were evidence of her weakness, and it was always a good idea to keep ones weaknesses to oneself.

But now Remus and his entire fourth year DADA class had caught a glimpse of what lay beneath her calm façade.  They had seen how vulnerable she really was, how crippled by fear and heartbreak.  Or perhaps they just thought she was crazy.  Perhaps that was preferable…

Elena was aware of long seconds of silence ticking past.  Apprehension was killing her.  Why didn't he say anything?  She had to speak, had to say something, it only to break the terrible stillness that had fallen in the room.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, and was astonished by how steady her voice sounded.  It gave her the confidence to risk a glance at his face.  But the depth of compassion she saw in his beautiful eyes tore fiercely at her heart, and she turned her gaze away again, unable to bear his kindness.

"Do you have them often?" He asked softly.

"Have what?"  She was being purposely obtuse, and they both knew it.

"Your nightmares," he supplied simply.

There was a long pause, then Elena replied in a low voice, "Sometimes I am afraid to sleep.  Other times I can not bear to stay awake.  It makes little difference really, the memories still find me.  Always the same.  Over and over.  I just – I just can't – "  Her hands were shaking now, and her throat began to close over.  She had never told anyone about the dreams before.  She really didn't think she could do it now.

Remus dropped to one knee beside her chair and grasped her trembling hands in both of his.  They felt strong and warm, and she clung to them, unable to help herself.  Slowly, the shaking dissipated from her body, and a measure of calmness was reclaimed.

Until he spoke again.  "Can you talk about it?" He asked gently.

She lifted her gaze and stared at him, her eyes wide with fear, her mouth ready to form the words of refusal.  But this time, his gaze held hers, and the words she actually heard herself speak were, "I dream about the night they died.  That's what I see.  Every time."

He didn't need to ask who 'they' were, but he sensed that she needed to talk about this.  She didn't want to, that much was obvious.  But she needed to.  It was long overdue.  A letter to Dumbledore explaining her family's fate wasn't sufficient.  She needed to speak the words out loud, to take the memories that circled in the darkness of her mind and expose them to the daylight.  It would not take away her pain, but it would do so much to lighten the burden she carried.

The question was whether or not she had the strength to put this story into words.

Remus stayed quiet, and waited.  He held her gaze steadily, and did not release her hands.

After a few more moments of silence, she began to speak, her voice soft and distant as she remembered.  "It was cold, that night.  No moon, mid-winter.  Everyone was gathered around the fire – me, Mum, Dad, Dawne, Gerald…  Dawne was my sister.  My twin."  God, but it hurt to say 'was'.  Elena swallowed, and pressed on.  "Gerald was our brother, our baby brother, only eighteen.  Mum couldn't have any more children after Dawne and I, but when Gerry was only two his parents died.  His mother and father were Mum and Dad's best friends, and though they were Muggles, Mum had noticed their son's magical talent.  When they died, she was so upset that she arranged to adopt the toddler into our family, and he grew up with us.  At the time, Dad wasn't sure that Mum had done the right thing, but Gerry never gave them cause to regret their decision.  He was a special boy.  We all adored him, me and Dawne more than anyone..."

She frowned, and her tone changed abruptly.  "Life wasn't perfect though.  I mean, I knew that I was different to the friends I'd grown up with, knew that I was a witch… but my parents would never let me act upon that.  They never told me anything about why they were so afraid of the magical power we all possessed…  I didn't understand - at least, not until it was too late…  I used to fight with them all the time, especially toward the end.  I was so frustrated.  I was twenty five and I'd scarcely ever been off the island.  But still my parents wouldn't give me any reasons for their over-protectiveness.  I just didn't realise the magnitude of the evil they were trying to protect us all from.  I should have accepted their restrictions.  I should have been a better daughter to them.  I should have…" 

She took a deep breath.  "I should have died with them that night."

Remus began to shake his head, but Elena stopped him, a small spark of anger flaring in her eyes.  "Don't you dare tell me I'm wrong," she said, an edge of sharpness in her voice.  "You don't _know_ me, Remus.  You don't know what I do and don't deserve.  I watched my father die, and I did nothing.  I stood there petrified.  To stupid and cowardly even to scream.  They tried to kill me next.  My sister died in my place.  My mother tried to intervene, so they turned on her.  I couldn't stop them.  Gerry was shouting something, telling me to run perhaps…  I could barely hear him.  Because I was next, I knew it.  I knew it.  I finally managed to string enough thoughts together to perform a spell, and it saved my life - their Curse missed me.  Then - then I saved myself.  I bolted for the open doorway, but I made the mistake of looking back.  One of the dark men tried again to hit me with a death Curse, but Gerry threw himself at the man and knocked him off balance.  The spell missed again, and this time I just ran.  I left my brother.  He was still alive when I escaped - I might have saved him.  But I ran away.  I don't even know what happened.  I don't know why any of it happened at all.  I only know that my family is dead, and both my brother and my sister died to save my life.  I didn't deserve it.  I don't.  I'm a coward.  I was ungrateful and headstrong and I caused my parents pain.  It's not right that I should be the only survivor.  It's not right that they are dead.  It's not right that sometimes I find myself hating them for leaving me alone…" 

She paused, and her voice softened in pain.  "I just feel like there's been some terrible mistake.  How can I be the only one left?  How can they be gone?  Why did it happen this way?  Who were those men, why was my family a threat to them?  And how … how am I supposed to keep going?  How long before the fear and the pain and the loneliness and the guilt get too much?  Every morning I wonder how I'm going to make it through the day, and every evening I'm amazed that I have.  One day it will be too much.  The walls will break, and I'll just drown, or be crushed…" She took a shuddering breath, and she closed her eyes as her grip on his hands tightened.  

"It's too much," she whispered, "I can't keep it up for much longer.  They're still out there, you know.  The dark men.  And one day I'll open a door or I'll glance out a window and they'll be there, waiting for me… they'll come and finish what they started…   Some days I want to die, but not like that.  Never like that…"  A low sob caught in her throat.

She wasn't sure who moved first – whether she had fallen forward against him or whether he had pulled her into his arms - but suddenly she was crushed in his embrace, her arms linked tightly around his neck, his hands on the small of her back and on the back of her head.  Her next words were muffled by tears and by the heavy cloth of his robes.  "Oh God, Remus, when will it stop?  I'm just so tired, I want it all to stop…"

And then she was crying openly, tears burning her eyes and her throat and dampening his clothes.  He didn't seem to care.  He rocked her close, whispering soft, senseless words into her hair.  Promising she would be safe, things would be all right now.

She listened to his promises, letting them seep softly into her blood.

And there on the floor of the empty classroom, held tightly within the circle of his arms, Elena finally … finally … for the first time in so long … 

Felt safe.


	16. The Moon

Emma Grieve Emma Grieve 1 1 2001-11-05T06:43:00Z 2001-11-05T06:44:00Z 1 (none) 1 1 9.2720 

**.Chapter 16.**

The moon was bright tonight, and the breeze-rippled surface of the lake gleamed silver and black.

Full moon was two days away.

Remus sat alone on the shore of the lake, his elbows resting on his drawn up knees, staring up at the glowing grey-white disc in the sky.  His pallid, sweat-dampened face looked even more washed out by the dirty-white bleach of the moonlight   He always began to feel ill at about this time, but sitting in the full glare of the moonlight was amplifying his sickness.

He didn't care.  On this night, he welcomed the aching nausea.  It reminded him of what he was.  And he knew he needed reminding.

He thought again of Elena, and of the feelings he had experienced when he had held her in his arms.  Protectiveness, anger, desire, grief … love …  

He hadn't meant to embrace her.  He hadn't meant to let anything happen at all.  Since Dumbledore's revelations, he had been more determined than ever to keep Elena Greenstone at an arm's length.  

But the sound of her screams shattering the quiet order of his classroom had nearly torn him in two.  It had been a mistake to take her hands.  Once that contact was established, there was no way he could prevent himself from pulling her closer still.

How he had wanted her at that moment.  Wanted to keep her safe, wanted to take away her pain, wanted to love her, wanted to make love _to_ her…

_Yes, think of that,_ A spiteful voice in the back of his mind spat, _Think of making love to her but don't stop there.  Next think of her on her hands and knees, shivering with pain and wretchedness as her nerves scream out and her limbs twist and warp… _

He grimaced and turned his face way, trying to escape the vicious cruelty of his own thoughts, but they would not relent._  You are a werewolf, Remus.  The words 'love' and 'werewolf' don't belong in the same sentence.  You feel pain, bring pain, cause pain.  That is all you have to offer a lover.  That is all you have to offer Elena.  And Elena has suffered enough._

_Besides, she is the Heir of Dumbledore, _Another thought intervened, calmer and more reasonable that the first, but all the more devastating for its logic. _ When Dumbledore dies, she and any children she has will be the last hopes of the wizarding world's fight against dark magic. You, on the other hand, are a product of that very darkness - a monster.  How can you even think of tainting the most important and powerful wizarding line the world has ever known with lycanthropy?_

Remus closed his eyes, and unbidden, a vision of Elena's face rose before him.  He saw her as she had last looked at him, her skin pale and blotched with tears, her blue-eyed gaze still dark with barely-masked pain, but a small smile at the corners of her mouth as she left his classroom.  She had trusted him.  Trusted him with her secrets, trusted him with her fears, trusted him with her guilt.

And he was repaying her with deception.  Because she still didn't know what he was.  And she had a right to know.  He had to tell her.  Soon.  Before this could go any further than it had.  She would surely despise him then.  She ought to.  And if by some miracle she did not, well, he would have to _make_ her despise him.   He knew he couldn't trust his own feelings where she was concerned.  He had no choice but to change hers.

And it was going to be the most difficult thing he had ever done.

Remus raised his face to the moon.  He had heard people call it beautiful.  He had never understood why.

Leaping suddenly to his feet, Remus scooped up a pebble from the lake's shore and pelted it as hard as he could at the cold silver-white disc in the sky.  It soared through the night air in a wide arc, but fell short of its target, landing with a soft, faraway plop on the other side of the lake.

Breathing heavily, Remus dropped down to his knees and buried his face in his hands.

It was not a just world.  He knew that.  Had always known that.  He was no stranger to pain, to loneliness, to guilt or regrets.

But that night, on his knees beside the glittering waters of the lake, he began his acquaintance with despair.


	17. The Bitter Potion

A/N: Sorry for the huge delay. I've been away. OK, OK, I was only gone a week so that's a poor excuse. If you want the truth I'm just a born procrastinator. Mea culpa. Anyway, this story should be continued reasonably soon. Thanks to those who have stayed with me this long, and pestered me for more, especially Kwinelf, Snow Lily and Kat Midstone. I appreciate it, guys. I hope you like this. : )  
  
.Chapter 17.  
  
Elena took a deep breath, glanced down at the steaming goblet in her right hand, then raised her left to knock three times.  
  
It had been two days since their encounter in the classroom, and she had seen Remus only twice since then, both times in passing. He had seemed pale, distracted. She had wanted to ask him what the matter was, but since their intense exchange she felt oddly shy around him. And besides, he had not remained in her presence long enough for her bring the conversation around to whatever it was that seemed to be troubling him.  
  
Had she embarrassed him? she wondered. It seemed unlikely. She was the only one who had anything to be embarrassed about, but she found she wasn't. She couldn't regret anything that had happened in that classroom. Speaking the truth at last, having someone share her secret, being held close after going for so long without a single gesture of human comfort. It had been right. Trusting him had been right. Being held by him had been right - so right. A tiny smile flitted over her face, and she felt warm at the memory.  
  
The door opened suddenly, jolting her from her reverie. Remus stood in the doorway, his expression bland and polite. He did not look surprised to see her, and she found that odd. It seemed improbable that colleagues often turned up at his door this late at night just to chat.  
  
"Elena," he said, smiling tightly, "Can I help you with something?"  
  
She was taken aback by his formality. Uncertain, she raised the goblet she held into his line of vision. "I - That is, I was speaking to Professor Snape. He asked me to bring you this. He said you weren't feeling well."  
  
And he was right, she added silently, Remus, you look awful! Why aren't you in the hospital wing?!  
  
Remus's eyes dropped to the steaming cup, and if he had looked ill before, he now looked positively moribund. Every trace of colour fled his face, and his polite expression turned icy and hard.  
  
"Snape - Snape asked you bring this to me?" He did not take his eyes off the potion.  
  
Confused, Elena hesitated. "Well. actually I met him on my way here. He asked me where I was going, and when I mentioned you, he.gave a strange sort of smile and asked if I would take it for him and save him the trip."  
  
Remus's lips twisted oddly. "How. subtle of him," he murmured, but Elena did not know if she was supposed to have heard him so she did not respond.  
  
He reached out to take the goblet from her, and as he did so their fingers brushed.  
  
Heat and sensation fired a sharp bolt of electricity through her body, and unable to help herself, Elina shuddered.  
  
To her mortification, Remus noticed. He froze, and his intense grey gaze flew straight to her face.  
  
Elena felt heat rising in her cheeks, but refused to clinch her idiocy once and for all by looking away. She didn't know what to expect from him. Shock? Excitement? Disdain? Embarrassment?  
  
But he displayed none of these. He looked . . . confused. Even . . . hurt.  
  
"You fear me, then?" he asked, his voice soft and a little strained.  
  
Of all the things he could have said, this was the last she had expected.  
  
"Fear you?" She was so incredulous she forgot to be embarrassed. "You? Remus, why would I fear you?"  
  
He inclined his head meaningfully, and she faltered again.  
  
"That wasn't fear. It was . . . Well, it wasn't fear." A tiny smile touched her lips and she felt her flush grow hotter. She couldn't quite believe what she was confessing.  
  
She watched his face to gauge his reaction, half holding her breath. He looked back at her, his eyebrows drawing together in a serious frown.  
  
Did he still not understand? How could he not sense just how powerfully she wanted him to touch her at that moment? Maybe she should give up waiting for him to figure it out and just kiss him first. How would he react? she wondered. She very much wanted to know.  
  
Perhaps something in her smile gave her away, for it suddenly seemed to occur to him what she might be implying. The effect was immediate. The hand which held the goblet he had taken from her began to shake slightly, and he crossed swiftly to the other side of the room, putting his desk between them.  
  
Elena tried very hard not to be hurt. She raised her eyebrows and shrugged carelessly as if the moment had meant nothing to her.  
  
But it had meant something to him. That was obvious. For a long moment, he stared at the potion still steaming in the goblet he had placed on the desk. Then he raised his gaze to her once more.  
  
"You don't know what this is for, do you," he said, his tone dull, but his voice shaking so slightly it was barely noticeable. "Snape didn't tell you. He was hoping you'd find out for yourself."  
  
Distracted from her own shame, Elena looked from him to the goblet at back again.  
  
Frowning slightly, she replied carefully. "He didn't tell me anything. I assumed it was just to help with your . . . illness."  
  
He smiled tightly. "My illness, yes. So aren't you curious to know what ails me?"  
  
"I. am sorry to hear that you are unwell. Beyond that, I don't much care what the illness is."  
  
"Well you should care!"  
  
Elena jumped, some of the blood draining from her face. She had never heard him raise his voice before.  
  
He immediately seemed to regret his sharpness. "Elena, I'm sorry. I didn't mean - "  
  
She shook her head. "It's all right," she said quickly.  
  
She had no idea whether it was or not. But she didn't need to hear him apologise. It seemed to be costing him so much, and he already looked so miserable, so . . . desperate. Every instinct was telling her to put her arms around him and press her face into his chest, to comfort him with all she had in her. But her brain overrode such foolish impulses, mercilessly reminding her of how he had backed away when their hands had brushed. Hadn't that been enough?  
  
Meanwhile, a measure of understanding was beginning to dawn on her at last. There were secrets here, she realised. Dark and painful undercurrents were swirling just under the surface. She had been so absorbed in her own troubling concealments that it hadn't even occurred to her that Remus might be hiding something too. She ought to have guessed, there had been clues enough. But she hadn't. And now her eyes were being opened: Remus Lupin had a past of his own.  
  
She looked into his eyes. "That's not just a medicinal draught at all, is it." It wasn't a question, but Remus shook his head very slightly.  
  
"You have some secret. Something. something that makes you push me away."  
  
He took a deep breath, and looked away. Then said simply, "Yes."  
  
Elena watched his face carefully, but he wouldn't meet her gaze. A heavy pause ensued.  
  
"Do you honestly think," she said at last, her voice grave, "That there is anything you could tell me that would make me recoil from you? You know what I am - what I've seen, what I'm guilty of. I watched my family die, and did nothing to help them. I've seen hell, Remus. Been there, done that. Whatever this secret of yours is." The sentence trailed away into silence.  
  
Elena shook her head helplessly. "Look," she said, "You don't have to tell me. I understand. I - I trust you." Was it her imagination, or did he flinch at her use of the word 'trust'?  
  
Still without looking at her, Remus picked up the goblet that sat cooling on his desk. He stared at it for a moment, then tossed back his head and drank it in three awful swallows. His face twisted with disgust, he replaced the goblet on the desk and met her gaze at last, his grey eyes as cold and hard as wind-driven sleet.  
  
"What makes you think you can trust me?" He demanded harshly.  
  
"I - "  
  
"And what," he continued, his eyes narrowing, "Makes you think that I trust you?"  
  
Elena stared at him, blood draining abruptly from her face.  
  
"I - I thought - " She paused, then shook her head again as the painful realisation dawned.  
  
"No," she whispered, her eyes locking with his in a silent plea, "I know what you're doing, but Remus please. don't do this."  
  
His expression flickered. It was impossible to say what the fleeting emotion was, for less than a second after is appeared it was gone again, replaced this time by a mask of cold formality. He ignored her plea, behaving as though she had not spoken.  
  
"Miss Greenstone, we are going to have to spend a lot of time together in the immediate future." he said abruptly, his tone clipped. "Dumbledore insists that you attend my classes, and for your own protection I am to continue attending yours. It is better that we do not confuse our professional relationship by introducing any . personal elements."  
  
Elena stared at him for a long moment after he finished speaking, then her shoulders sagged in inevitable defeat.  
  
"All right," she said quietly, her tone dulled, "I see how you want it to be. Forgive me for pressing you. Your secrets are your own to keep." Her mouth twisted slightly. "I hope you'll keep mine with equally determined reserve. I'm sorry to have burdened you with them, and forced my trust upon you when it was obviously so unwelcome."  
  
She turned around, walked to the door and opened it to let herself out. Just before she stepped through, she paused.  
  
"Good night, Remus," she said dully, without turning around. Then she was gone.  
  
If she had turned, she would have realised just how thin a veneer his impassive expression had been.  
  
As Remus watched her leave the room, the coldness in his eyes melted into a look of pure longing.  
  
.And an infinity of hopeless regret. 


	18. The Walk

**__**

A/N: Merry Christmas, everyone. Your reviews were among my best presents this year. Thank you all. More is coming very soon - promise.

Chapter 18.

Elena sat upon the hillside, her knees drawn up and locked within the circle of her arms. Her gaze was fixed wistfully on five distant figures: one tall and lean, one bulky and towering, three short and slender. Hagrid, the Care of Magical Creatures teacher, was digging in his vegetable patch, and three students were helping him. Hermione, Ron and Harry - Elena remembered their names from her own lesson with them. They had seemed pleasant children. Hermione had especially endeared herself to Elena with her earnest enthusiasm for new knowledge.

But it was not the students she watched, nor was it Rubeus Hagrid. 

It was Remus Lupin. He was looking much better than he had the previous week, she thought. Colour was back in his hollowed cheeks, and he was actually smiling as he listened to the teasing banter between his students. He kneeled to help Hermione as she struggled with a particularly stubborn root, tugging it easily from the earth. Elena marvelled, not for the first time, at how disproportionately strong he seemed to be. Hermione didn't seem to consider it odd, though. She smiled, and thanked him, and he stood up again, dusting dirt from his already fraying robes.

Ron, the red-haired boy, made some jibe that Elena couldn't quite catch, but they all laughed. It was a happy, unguarded sound, the kind of laugher shared by old and comfortable friends.

Elena sighed, suddenly feeling incredibly alone.

She hadn't meant to stop here. She had been taking herself for a walk, which she was not technically supposed to do on her own, but she had wanted to explore the grounds. She'd been strolling for almost an hour when she had come over the crest of this rolling hill and spied the little group beside Hagrid's stone cottage. 

Perhaps it was foolish of her, but she had not been able to resist the chance to observe Remus unguarded and happy for once, just for few moments. The only face he showed to her these days was cold and meticulously polite, forcing distance between them, and every day it hurt her more than she cared to admit.

He was deliberately pushing her away, she knew that. But that almost made it worse. Whatever his secret was, it seemed he didn't trust her enough to share it, and didn't trust himself enough to let their relationship progress in the direction they both knew it had been going. 

He felt _something_ for her, of that she was certain, but exactly what that 'something' was she had no idea. For her own part, she acknowledged a deep and compelling attraction she could scarcely explain, coupled with a profound sense of … belonging … when she was near him. Everything felt right at his side. His intelligent conversation, his slow smiles, his velvet voice, his gentle strength, his quiet sadness… Everything he did caught her low in the stomach with a bittersweet mixture of longing and pain so intense that it frequently left her breathless. There was nothing about him she did not love.

__

Love is a strong word, Elena, she warned herself sharply. _A dangerous word._

But what other word could she use? Nothing else could explain these feelings. Nothing else could have the power to hurt her so much, even while it brought a new and bittersweet lightness into her dark life.

She reached down to pluck at a loose thread in the hem of her robes. She longed to know what secret Remus concealed, if only so that she could help him, comfort him, the way he had helped and comforted her. But he didn't want her help or her comfort, she acknowledged with a pang. He held her at an arms length and continued to do so, showing no signs of relenting soon.

Then again, perhaps it was for the best? After all, the fact the he knew her secret now did not neutralise its threat. She was still living on borrowed time. Who knew how long she had to live before the dark men found some way of eliminating her for good? She ought to be concentrating on remaining carefully aloof during her respite at Hogwarts, and not allowing anyone to become too closely allied with her. That had been her original resolution. She really ought to have been the one pushing _him_ away.

But then, she had never expected to be so sorely tempted. Had never suspected that someone like Remus Lupin existed in the world, with the power to make her feel breathless with a look and safe with one embrace. She had never expected … to fall in love.

The thread she had been pulling at broke with a snap. Elena stared at it for a moment, then got suddenly to her feet, making a short noise of exasperation in the back of her throat. This was ridiculous. She had fought too hard, and come through too much to let some silly infatuation with a man who had clearly demonstrated he wanted nothing to do with her to bring her to her knees.

She allowed herself one long last look, then turned abruptly and began climbing to the crest of the hill, away from Remus and his companions. Away from her own display of weakness.

She did not see the dark-haired boy glance up at the hillside where she walked, did not see him murmur Professor Lupin's name and gesture after her.

Remus went oddly still for just a moment, then turned his head.

"She was watching us," Harry said quietly, watching Lupin's face carefully. "She looked … sad. D'you think she's OK?"

Lupin did not answer for a moment. His gaze was fixed on Elena's retreating figure, his expression an undisguised mixture of surprise, pain and longing. He saw how her dark head was bowed, and her arms crossed over her chest as she walked. She was hurting, and he knew who was to blame. A vicious stab of guilt assailed him. He wished he could run after her, scoop her up in his arms, and show her just how much of an act his indifference really was. How all he really wanted to do when she was near was kiss her until she was breathless, and then a whole lot more besides. How he hated himself for what was, and what he had to do.

Harry observed the emotions that played across the face of his beloved teacher without comment.

"Miss Greenstone … will be fine, I'm sure." Lupin said at last, looking down at Harry and forcing a smile.

Harry didn't smile back. "I like Miss Greenstone," he said neutrally, "Don't you?"

Lupin's smile vanished at once. "Of course I do," he said stiffly, "Why should you think otherwise?"

The boy shrugged. "When she attends our classes, you seem … cold towards her. I was just wondering why."

"Miss Greenstone is a colleague, and as such she has my respect," Lupin said tightly, "I have not shown her anything less. But that is immaterial, Harry, when it is not an affair which concerns you. Perhaps you should let the private business of your teachers remain just that - private."

Remus pushed the shovel he was holding deep into the black soil with a loud crunch, then lifted it with the harsh scrape of dirt on metal.

Harry was silent for a long moment, watching Lupin digging with unnecessary vigour and concentration. Then he asked softly, "She doesn't know, does she."

The shovel paused, and Remus released a weary breath. "I thought I asked you to drop the subject, Harry," he said, but the bite had gone out of his voice and he sounded beaten.

He didn't want to have this conversation. He didn't need someone else to point out how badly he had treated Elena. He knew better than any one how much he was hurting her. But why didn't any one ask him how much it was hurting _him_? Because whatever Elena was feeling, he knew it couldn't possibly compare to the agony of guilt and frustration that pierced him to the soul, every time he entered a room where she was present. 

That she should care for him, want him even, was miraculous to him. But to be forced by circumstance to reject her tremulously offered affection, and compound the pain of loneliness that already shrouded her battered heart… To be forced to _hurt_ her… When she had already been hurt so terribly… It was almost more than he could bear.

But then - Dumbledore's Heir, one of the last great hopes of the wizarding world … and a werewolf?

Never. The idea was offensive. Impossible. He was not a fit lover or provider for any woman, let alone…

Let alone Elena.

Never mind that his heart yearned for her with ever-increasing devotion. Never mind that his desire for her burned so fiercely and intensely that he sometimes had to bite his own lips to keep from moaning her name aloud at nights. Never mind that he … that he loved her.

Biting back a vicious curse, Remus resumed his digging with renewed force.

With any luck, he would be exhausted by the time he fell into bed, and would be spared the pain of thinking any more today.


	19. The Guardian

**__**

A/N: More, as promised. Please review!

Chapter 19.

Elena stared at the swirling gold liquid in the china bowl, scarcely able to comprehend what she had just been told.

"You - you're - "

"Your great uncle. Yes." Dumbledore confirmed gently. "I was your grandfather's brother. This spell we have just performs proves we share a blood relation."

"But - " Elena dragged her gaze away from the bowl to meet the old Headmaster's eyes in confusion. "Why didn't you say something earlier?"

Dumbledore nodded. "A fair question," he acknowledged readily, "And the answer is that I wanted to be _sure_ that you were who I suspected you were before I involved you unnecessarily in a very complex and dangerous affair. That, and…" he smiled very slightly, "I think I wanted to avoid the disappointment we would both inevitably have suffered if I had announced my suspicions and then been proven wrong."

Elena stared at the old man, shock and disbelief blanching her face. "Then… I'm not alone. I have family left. _You_ are my family. I can't … I can't believe it." Her extraordinary eyes filled with tears which she struggled to blink away. Dumbledore's blue eyes looked a little brighter than usual too.

"But - does this mean you know - what happened to my parents? My brother and sister? Who those men were? Why … why they want to kill me too?"

Dumbledore nodded, gravely this time. "Yes. Without being certain of who you were, I could offer no explanation with certainty, but now I can tell you. You may want to sit down."

Elena shook her head, her face white and set. "I'll be fine. Just tell me."

"Very well. The men who came to your door that night were what we call Death Eaters. Dark wizards, followers of Lord Voldemort."

"Who?"

"You-Know-Who."

Elena was confused. "No, I don't," she insisted. 

Dumbledore half-smiled. "I'm sorry. I forget sometimes that you have grown up away from the wizarding world, and are unfamiliar with our many idiosyncrasies. You-Know-Who is an alias given to the darkest wizard of them all, a power-hungry and significantly insane megalomaniac. Voldemort."

"If Voldemort is his name, then why bother with 'You-Know-Who'?"

"People are afraid to speak his name aloud."

"But not you, obviously."

"No. He is evil, but fear of evil only increases its power. Fear is a powerful weapon. I am told that Voldemort fears me, and I'd rather not reciprocate the weakness."

"Why should he fear you, above all others?"

Dumbledore's shoulders rose in a slight shrug. "Any combination of reasons, I suppose. I was a teacher at Hogwarts when he attended here, and I think I probably made an impression as a figure of authority then. But perhaps more significance is my inheritance."

He fixed his clear blue eyes meaningfully on Elena's face. "_Our _inheritance," he amended.

Elena returned his stare with helpless bemusement. "When you say 'inheritance'…" she began, but Dumbledore interrupted, anticipating her questions and answering with unsmiling seriousness. 

"My own grandparents - your great-great grandparents - were an extraordinarily talented couple when it came to magical ability. Working together, they created a secret spell to ensure that all their gifts were passed down to their children, and indeed, all their descendants. This is what I refer to when I speak of an 'inheritance'. Their descendants are known as Dumbledore's Heirs, and they are all, without exception, powerful White witches and wizards. And as such, a threat to all and any Dark enchanters."

Elena nodded slowly, her eyes wide as she began to understand. "Then that is why my parents wanted nothing to do with the wizarding world. My father was an Heir of Dumbledore. Him, his children - me and Dawne - we were all targets for Dark magic. No wonder he wouldn't let us come to Hogwarts. No wonder he was so unnaturally fearful of being discovered by other people like us. He wanted … he wanted to protect us."

"I don't doubt it," said Dumbledore quietly. "And he did his best. No one could have done more."

Elena shook her head, trying to make some sense of what she was learning.

"And that's … that's why they want to kill me. I'm the end of the Dumbledore line. Except for you, but … "

Elena blushed a little, but Dumbledore inclined his head graciously. "But I am unlikely to father any heirs any time soon," he supplied easily. "The threat to your safety, however, is still very real. And a matter of great concern to me. Which is why I hope you'll consider this suggestion."

He took a deep breath, and Elena's apprehension increased sharply.

"Continue to rely on Remus Lupin as your personal guardian. Attend his classes. Let him attend yours. Go no where without him. You are still so vulnerable when it comes to defending yourself against Dark Arts. He's the only one I would trust your safety to."

Of all the things he could have said, this was the last thing Elena had expected. For a few seconds she was speechless, wondering how on earth she was going to respond to such a request.

"I think," she said at last, choosing her words carefully, "You should put the suggestion to him before you concern yourself with my opinion. The whole body guard thing was only ever meant to be temporary. I think you'll find that what I feel on the subject won't signify at all - Remus will never agree to it."

Dumbledore leaned back in his chair, his eyebrows slightly raised. "Actually, Remus has already agreed to it."

Elena did a double take. "He _what_?"

"He agreed to be your guardian."

She shook her head. "He can't have. He can scarcely stand to be in the same room as me."

"He cares for your safety."

"He hates me."

"Elena." His tone was chiding.

"Oh, fine, he doesn't hate me. But whatever he feels, it's not exactly a friendly emotion, is it."

"No, not exactly. And that, I suspect, is the whole problem."

And though Elena begged him to explain, he would not elaborate on his cryptic comment.


	20. The Lesson

****

Chapter 20.

Two weeks passed. Elena had attended every one of Remus's Defence Against Dark Arts classes, and was quite pleased with her own progress. 

She was also enjoying her own classes rather more than she had expected to. Her lessons were only a small part of the school's study curriculum, but all her students seemed to have at least a mild interest in learning the ways of Charmers. Before she had arrived as a teacher in the field, it had been an obscure and mysterious branch of magic to them. Now they were being given the chance to learn some of the secrets of the craft. And she liked teaching them.

Remus was learning too. If nothing else, he was learning the true extent of his own steely self control. He attended nearly all Elena's classes, seating himself with arms folded near the back of the room, shrouded in Dumbledore's invisibility cloak so as to avoid any awkward questions about _why_ Miss Greenstone required his surveillance.

Despite their forced proximity, he had managed to maintain his distance from her for another few weeks. Now that the full moon was creeping closer once more, it was both easier and more difficult sustain his coldness towards her. Easier because his gradually increasing nausea and weakness brought him a welcome reminder of exactly what it was he was shielding her from. But more difficult because the approach of his transformation was always coupled with heightened senses - smell and hearing, mostly, but also wilder instincts which he had to struggle to keep in check. 

Having to see Elena every day - moving around her classroom, interacting shyly with her students, observing her oddly fascinating little gestures and habits, sometimes so guarded and closed, other times astonishing in their openness and grace - was difficult enough. But watching her every blush, hearing every whisper of her robes as she moved, scenting the sweetness of her skin every time she turned toward him ... Surely this was torture?

Remus's continued determination to reject her was, of course, glaringly obvious to Elena. She didn't know how to defend herself against the pain it caused her. She tried ignoring him, but it was so hard when he was right there, at her side or in front of her, every waking hour. She had tried being civil to him, but the blatant insincerity of their blandly polite exchanges grated painfully against her yearning heart. She had even tried to be his friend once more, but his cold rebuffs so devastated her that she hadn't the strength to make such an attempt again.

Even when he was shrouded in an invisibility cloak, she could sense his presence and his whereabouts, partly courtesy of her gift as a Charmer, and partly thanks to a her other ability - the one she had never spoken of to any one. Not her parents, not Remus, not even Dumbledore. It made her feel a little safer, knowing that she had kept it a secret. Like she always had one last trick up her sleeve. It had saved her life more than once, after all, and it might again. She had no intention of revealing it without a good reason.

As things stood, though, the past few weeks of more or less unabated misery had taken their toll. She loved him, but he didn't love her. Well, whatever he felt, it wasn't a strong enough emotion to induce him to trust her with his secrets, and as far as she was concerned that was just as bad, if not worse.

__

So why, she thought fiercely to herself as she cleared the blackboard in preparation for her next class, _Why am I making myself sick over this? Over him? He knows what he's doing to me, damn him. He must know. And _still_ he won't even ..._

Turning her head, she glared in angry frustration at the back of the classroom. Remus was watching her, the invisibility cloak thrown over his shoulders but his head and the front of his body clearly visible. His eyes were slightly lidded, and his gaze seemed intent, but from such a distance she could tell no more about his expression. Still, he was powerfully attractive, sitting there with his arms crossed over his lean chest and his prematurely grey-streaked hair pushed back from his face. But today, the bittersweet rush of desire only served to anger her further.

He raised his eyebrows when he caught the anger in her stare. They hadn't even been talking - she had been cleaning the blackboard and he had been watching. She couldn't have divined the direction of his thoughts, could she? So what had he done to warrant _that _look all of a sudden?

A moment later there came the sound of raised voices and heavy footsteps in the hallway, and Remus swiftly pulled the cloak over his head, disappearing from view. The students were coming.

Elena took a deep breath, and turned to greet them. For the first half of the lesson, she succeeded in ignoring Remus entirely, still fuming inwardly with unresolved resentment. 

She had set the students a reading, and they were all bent studiously over their books when a hand was raised right at the back of the room.

Walking down the middle aisle, Elena approached Remus then turned, passing within a few inches of him on her way to answer the student's question. Almost imperceptibly, she heard his boots scrape the floor as he moved his legs to ensure they did not touch. For some reason, this tiny movement brought her unreasoning irritation to its boiling point. A terse little smile touched her lips. He wouldn't even brush robes with her, then? Made of stone, was he? She'd see about that.

When she passed him again, she deliberately trailed her hand through the air where she knew he was sitting. Her fingers encountered the line of his jaw, which tightened sharply in response. She wished wickedly that she could see his expression.

Keeping her gaze nonchalantly directed at her students' turned backs, Elena let her fingers drift innocently over the warm, rough skin of his jaw. Her index finger reached his lips. They were full and soft, softer than she had expected. She raised her eyebrows sharply when she felt his teeth nip at her, presumably in warning, but he had been so gentle he had not even marked her skin. She shuddered slightly. 

Remus had no idea what had suddenly come over Elena. He couldn't even see her face to discern her expression. Had she lost her mind? Was she trying to make him lose his? Why was she taking these risks? Why was she...? Oh, Merlin, now her hand was trailing lower... A feather-light touch drifted over his neck and reached the skin at the neck of his robes. His hand jerked upwards, desperate to grasp her wrist and restrain her, but he knew he couldn't touch her without running the risk of obscuring part of her body or revealing part of his, both of which scenarios would be very difficult to explain if a student were to turn around. His only choice was to move physically away from her, to put some distance between them.

He stood up, and Elena's hand dropped away, but she didn't move out of his way. He was forced to brush firmly against her just to move to the other side of the classroom. She smiled at vaguely as he passed, but in her eyes he could see a new light - she knew exactly what she had been doing. But why?

He repositioned himself against another wall of the classroom, tugging his cloak around him to be sure that it still concealed him completely. His thoughts were in turmoil, while other parts of him knew exactly what they wanted. He couldn't look at Elena, and didn't notice that the student closest to him had raised their hand until it was too late. Suddenly Elena was back before him, slinking past with exaggerated closeness, and bending at the waist to attend to the student's question.

Blood rushed north to flush Remus's face, then abruptly south as his desire threatened to overwhelm him.

He was struggling to breath deeply, and wondering hazily if he wasn't fighting a losing battle, when a loud chime echoed through the studious silence of the room, signalling the end of the period and Remus's salvation. All the students looked up and began shuffling papers and slamming books shut, waiting to be dismissed. It was the last class before lunch, and when Elena nodded, they cleared the room in twenty seconds flat, becoming nothing more than a fading cacophony of shouts and laughter in the stone hallway.

Ignoring where she knew Remus to be standing, Elena strolled nonchalantly to the front of the classroom and began to gather her own belongings. She sensed him approaching her, his steps heavy and purposeful. She turned just as he came upon her, throwing the cloak aside as he reached out to grasp her shoulders. His expression was furious.

"What was all that about?" he demanded, his usually gentle grey eyes all but shooting sparks.

Elena met his angry glare with an innocent toss of her head. "All what?" she responded airily.

"All that … brushing past and … and …"

"Oh, was that _you _I brushed against? I'm awfully sorry, I had _no _idea - "

"Elena." His tone was low, dangerous. Warning.

Elena swallowed, but refused to be intimidated.

"Well, at least it got your attention!" she snapped defensively, her anger bubbling abruptly to the surface, "For someone who is supposedly here to watch over me, you seem to make a conscious effort to _ignore_ me! I'm not inanimate, Remus. You can't go on treating me like I'm not really here. I'm not the kind of problem that goes away when ignored."

Remus gave a hollow kind of laugh, and still did not release her upper arms. "Elena, you aren't even the kind of problem that_ can be_ ignored."

"But I _am _a problem, evidently," she said bitingly. "Just a problem you don't want to deal with."

For a moment he only stared at her, and their gazes locked fiercely. Neither one moved.

"Oh yes," said Remus at last, very softly, "You're a problem. You're a _very_ big problem."

In his eyes, Elena read a deep-burning heat that almost scalded her with its intensity. Her heart, already beating fast, began to pound desperately against her ribs, and his hands burned through her robes until she could have sworn she felt their friction against the skin of her arms. Her anger seemed to have evaporated in the sudden heat. 

"Well…" Was it just her, or were their faces getting closer? Her voice shook, very slightly. "What are you going to do about me?"

He was definitely leaning down now. Elena tilted her face upward, her pulse soaring. 

There was a long pause, or perhaps it only seemed that way. His eyes closed, and he seemed to fight a terrible battle within himself. Then he spoke, his voice scarcely more than a rasp in his throat.

"Teach you … a lesson?"

For just one moment, one brief, maddening, blissful moment, she felt his lips brush warmly over hers. And then -

"Oh. Do excuse me. I had no idea I was interrupting anything."

Remus and Elena sprang apart like guilty children, both breathing heavily.

Severus Snape looked from one to the other, his expression inscrutable.

Remus was the first to speak. 

"What is it, Professor," he said tersely, and Elena admired the way his voice only wavered a little. She was still many minutes away from being able to make any coherent sound at all.

"I only wished to deliever a message," Severus drawled, his tone bordering on insolent, "Quite an important one, in fact, but nonetheless, I can assure you that I would not have dreamed of entering this classroom if I had known - "

"The message, please, Severus," Remus said warningly, almost wearily.

Snape's black eyes darted towards him. "Very well. Your - medicine," he said delicately, "You have been taking it each night?"

Both men flicked glances in Elena's direction, who crossed her arms over her chest and made it very clear she had no intention of leaving just as the conversation got interesting.

After a brief hesitation, Remus replied, "Yes, what of it?"

"I'm afraid it has been doing you little good. One of my herb suppliers has just contacted me by owl to say that his crop must have been tainted, and I should not to use any of his stock in dangerous or sensitive potions. Unfortunately your ... medicine was both. I can not guarantee its effectiveness. You will have to take ... other measures."

Elena looked at Remus. He seemed a little pale at this news, but other than that his expression was impassive.

For a moment, he seemed undecided. Then he straightened, nodded once at them both without meeting Elena's eyes, then strode quickly from the room, leaving Elena alone with Severus Snape.

Just for a moment, she was tempted to ask the dour, black-haired man if he would tell her the nature of Remus's secret. He brewed the mysterious potion for him, after all, so he must know more than she did..

But that would be going behind Remus's back, and somehow she felt that if she couldn't hear a confession from Remus himself, then it was not worth having. 

With a long, inaudible sigh, she returned to her desk. Severus Snape slipped wordlessly from the room.


	21. The Sleepless Night

**_A/N:  Since this story has been progressed somewhat erratically over the past few months, I just want to take this opportunity to defend myself.  See, this chapter introduces Elena's mysterious second talent, but it isn't the awkward 'I-didn't-think-of-this-plot-device-until-recently-but-I-am-determined-to-use-it-anyway' tactic that it seems.  Some big clues were given right back in chapter 9 and there's a tiny one in 15.  I don't really expect anyone to remember them though, since you've been reading widely spaced instalments.  Feel free to go back and read those chapters again, or just take me at my word and read on…  : )_******

**Chapter 21.******

Elena couldn't sleep.  She lay on her back in her enormous four-poster bed, watching the flickering shadows cast by the candlelight dance across the ceiling, and she thought about Remus.  And when that subject became too upsetting, she sought a distraction and her thoughts turned inexorably to the men in black robes.  'Death Eaters', Dumbledore had called them.  The men who had killed her parents, the men who would one day come for her.  These reflections did little to calm her.

She sighed, and flung back her covers.  Sometimes she really was her own worst enemy.

Moving silently over the cold floor baords, she went to stand at her window, pushing the eaves open to let in the frigid night air.  She rested her folded arms on the windowsill, and looked out over the dark and silent grounds of Hogwarts School.

The moon was not yet up, but all the lights burning in and around the castle encased it in a dim glow which helped to illuminate the building's immediate surrounds.  Beyond that, an inky darkness reigned.

Inevitably, her thoughts drifted back toward Remus.  By leaning out of the window and twisting her head, she could see his room on the top floor of the staff wing.  There was no light in the window.  _He must already be asleep, _she thought crossly, _probably dreaming sweetly, while I pace my room and wallow in my own misery._

But that was not a fair supposition, and she knew it.  One had only to look into Remus's haunted, storm-grey eyes to know that he was a man whose dreams were seldom sweet.  Remus had suffered, and suffered still, and it broke her heart anew each day to see it and know that he would never let her close enough to offer him the comfort she so ached to give.

A lump rose in her throat and her eyes prickled with sudden tears.  Furious with herself, she reached out to pull the window closed - then froze, and blinked hard.  

The blur of tears cleared, and she saw she had not been mistaken.  In the dimly lit shadows around the base of the castle walls there crept a lone figure dressed in long black robes.

Her heart stopped and her mouth went dry.  

_Death Eater_!

Her knees buckled slightly in terror and shock, and she grabbed at the window sill for support.__

A moment later, the figure detached itself from the shadowy wall and strode swiftly away from the castle, heading for the darkness beyond.

But there was something familiar about the way the stranger was walking, something about the way they held their arms...  Elena's heart kick-started itself again and proceeded to jump into over-drive.

_Remus_!  _It's Remus!_

But where was he going?  Where could he _possibly_ he headed on a night like this?

She barely paused to think, she didn't even take the time to change out of her night dress.  Within seconds she was sweeping down the hallway, her dark cloak billowing behind her as her fingers fumbled awkwardly at the clasp, trying to fasten it on the run.  Her bare feet thudded softly against the floorboards as she flew down the empty corridor, down the stairs, and out into the night.

The cold air was a shock, raising goose-bumps on her arms and the back of her neck, but she scarcely noticed.  Her head turned sharply left and right as she scanned the grounds for movement.  She was not surprised when she spied nothing.  She was standing in the light, trying to see into the darkness  -  practically blind.

Glancing upward, she made certain that no lights were still burning in the teacher's wing.  _She_ didn't want to question what she about to do, so she certainly didn't want anyone else to see her and ask the questions for her.

She darted forward, and the darkness enveloped her swiftly.  For several minutes, she followed doggedly in the direction she thought Remus had probably taken, but none of her senses could locate any sign of him.  

Over the treetops of the Forbidden Forest, a pale silvery light began to glow.  The moon was rising.  The full moon.

Soon the grounds of Hogwarts would be illuminated by moonlight.  If she was serious about finding Remus, she would have to make a decision, and make it soon.

For a long minute, she hesitated.  It would mean using her second gift, and she generally didn't like to unless the situation was desperate.  The spell was complex, and it had taken her no less than six years pouring over her grandfather's magic books to accomplish it successfully.  She wasn't even sure if it was strictly legal in the wizarding world – she had preferred not to inquire.

So was this situation desperate?

She glanced back at the Forbidden Forrest, where the silvery glow was getting brighter.  A sliver of white appeared as the moon began to emerge from behind the tree tops.

Yes, she decided suddenly.  It was desperate.  She had to know, one way or another, what sort of man she had surrendered her heart to.  Moral reflections on whether this was right or wrong would have to wait until the sun came up and made everything real again.  Here in the eerie darkness with the cold biting at her skin, the blood racing through her veins, and her heart burning with a love that was almost indistinguishable from pain, she could waste no more time in indecision.

She closed her eyes and concentrated.  For a moment, nothing happened.  Then all at once, she felt the world shift and change around her, though she knew this was an illusion - it was she who was shifting and changing.  

The whole process took less than five seconds.  She did not need to open her eyes to know when it was done.  The world had not changed much visually, but as far as her other senses were concerned, it had exploded into a hurricane of a thousand different scents and sounds.

Elena shook herself, and stretched luxuriously.  It felt good.  She had missed travelling in this shape.

Remus's scent was obvious to her at once.  Putting her black nose to the ground, she trotted backwards and forwards a few times, then caught the trail.  A soft bark of triumph escaped her, and she loped forward into the darkness.

**A/N: Ooooh, cliffhanger!  ;)  The next chapter is nearly done so if I get lots of reviews I'll post sooner...  LOL I _hate it when authors do that to me, but it's QUITE a different matter when __I do it.  Thank you all for reading!_**


	22. The Truth

**__**

A/N: Thank you to every single one of you who reviewed, especially Tessie, eclecticmum, Leandra, Jerlyz, Rugi, Lady Lupin... and Snowlily, who managed single-handedly to swell my head to twice its normal size. Thank God for Gwen Sanderson, who brought me back down to earth by assuring me that she has 'read novels that are worse' than TiS. I'm pretty sure it was a compliment. ; ) Either way, thanks guys, and thanks for your patience with this chapter - it took longer than expected. Hope it was worth the wait.

Chapter 22.

The tree was enormous. The trunk alone had to be six feet around, and a dense canopy branched out overhead. And Remus's scent led straight towards it. Without pausing in her step, Elena trotted unsuspectingly into range.

__

Thwack.

Elena yelped as a powerful, stinging slap across her ribs sent her flying backwards. Dazed, she struggled up from the ground and looked at the tree more carefully. One or two of the lower braches flexed menacingly, and then settled to stillness once more.

An enchanted tree, then. Charmed to keep any one from getting too close to whatever secrets were concealed in or around the trunk. But there had to be a way to pacify it, or avoid its blows.

Moving more cautiously this time, Elena made to approach again, keeping a close eye on the violently-inclined canopy overhead. She had barely moved a metre when a lower bough sprang to life and took a swipe at her. This time Elena was ready for it, and she ducked low, pressing her belly against the ground. The leaves grazed her back, but the branch missed.

She inched forward, crawling on her tummy. Again a branch came hurtling down toward her, and again, it scraped by without harming her. In this undignified fashion, Elena managed to near the trunk of the old tree. The closer she got, however, the wilder the thrashing of the branches became. By the time she was within touching distance of the wood, the tree's frenzied attempts to beat her were so powerful that the branches were stinging, even when they only brushed or clipped her.

With a soft yelp, she leapt aside out of the path of a particularly long branch that was sweeping toward her. A moment later she was forced to leap the other way to avoid another. Then another. The swipe after that she did not see, and it caught her painfully around the ribs, throwing her up against the trunk. Her paws scrabbled briefly on the knobbled wood, then she slipped to the ground and flattened herself against the earth, whining in anticipation of the next onslaught.

But there was nothing. Without warning, the tree had become perfectly still. Not even a breeze disturbed its handsome foliage. Before she could even react to this unexpected reprieve, however, Elena felt the ground move slightly beneath her and she scrambled backwards in alarm.

A tunnel gaped open in the tree's broad trunk, leading down into inky darkness. Elena hesitated, checked over both shoulders, then slithered nervously into mysterious passage. Her paws stuck dry soil about four feet down, and as her eyes adjusted to the lightless air she found she could make out smooth stone walls on all sides. 

A deep sniff revealed that Remus had indeed been here in this passage way, less than an hour ago. The fresh scent revealed more, too. The taint of sickness hung lightly in the air, and if she concentrated, the sharp tang of fear was apparent to her senses.

Anger, horror, and concern all fought for precedence in Elena's stomach. Remus was ill, and wandering the grounds of Hogwarts at night. Even worse, he was afraid! Whether it was for himself, or of what awaited him at the end of this tunnel, she didn't know. But he was sick, fearful and alone - all she knew was that she had to get to him, had to be by his side.

She peered into the darkness ahead, and began to run.

The twisting tunnel seemed endless. In her desperation to find Remus, Elena found her speed increasing at every curve. Soon she was bolting through the low passage, her paws scrabbling for purchase on the gritty floor.

A dead end marked by a wooden trapdoor brought her up short. Panting heavily, she nosed it urgently and felt it give at the pressure. Twisting her body rather athletically, she pushed her way through. The trapdoor closed behind her with a heavy thunk, leaving her in a world of silence.

She was standing in almost pitch darkness, inside some kind of abandoned house. Everything smelt dusty and worn down. She could not make out any movement. 

The thing that struck her more forcibly than anything else about her strange surrounds, however, was the mysterious disappearance of Remus's scent. She had followed it this far, strong and clear. Now suddenly it had faded, or ... changed somehow. It made no sense to Elena. How could someone's scent just 'change' without warning? What was more, the new scent that pervaded this house was confusing her. It was simultaneously familiar and alien to her, and it spoke of terrible things no words could describe.

She lifted her head and sniffed again, her heart pounding against her ribs. There was pain and grief and desperation, feelings of such intensity that they had tainted the air itself, but she was used to these emotions and though they worried her they did not frighten her. What frightened her was the fury, the hate, and the ferocious power that seemed to fester in every shadow. There was something evil in this place. Something dark and wild and terrifying.

Elena shivered and swallowed the frightened whine that rose in her throat. Whatever dark creature lived here, she did not want to alert it to her presence.

But perhaps it was too late.

In the shadows to the left of her, her adjusting eyes caught a glimpse of movement. She backed around to face it, snarling silently in fear as her hackles lifted. The terrible scent of mad pain and untamable viciousness assaulted her again, and all her senses strained to discover what manner of beast she was confronting.

For a long moment, there was a heavy silence. Then a low, rasping growl swelled softly in the shadows, and Elena shuddered. In the dimness, she spied a gleam of white.

It took a moment for her to register that the gleam was reflecting off teeth. Suddenly she realised why the scent of this monster had confused her with its odd familiarity - it was at least part wolf.

Lowering her tail and cowering slightly, Elena took a step backward. The creature in the shadows moved forward immediately, narrowing the gap between them. Elena could make out a little more now. It was a wolf all right - large and lean, with long limbs and a shaggy grey-black coat. 

But as it loomed from the darkness, her desperately roving eyes noticed other things. Things that stopped her breath in her throat and filled her entire being with terror like she had never known.

Instead of the earth-blunted claws of ordinary wolves, this creature had enormous paws studded with short, curving black talons, designed to shred flesh from bones. Instead of yellowed and slightly worn canines, its mouth was packed with shining silver-white teeth, its needle-pointed fangs exposed by a permanent snarl. This was no wolf.

This was a werewolf.

And she was as good as dead.

Before she could check it, an instinctive growl of terror and hatred welled in her throat and rumbled around the small room.

At the sound of it, the werewolf's head jerked up and its ears pricked sharply. Its horrible claws flexed and it sniffed the air intently. With another painful, rasping snarl, it began to advance on her.

In desperation, Elena cast out her mind and made a clumsy contact with the hazy, half-maddened mind of the werewolf. She opened her consciousness to it, letting it see all of her motivations and emotions - her desperate concern for her lover, her fear, her disinterest in doing the werewolf harm, her desire to escape.

She felt its reaction as it sensed her inside its head, but it did not open up to her. This didn't really surprise her. The contact dropped away, and Elena could not summon the energy, nor the proper level of concentration required to cast out again.

Even though it would not let her into its mind, Elena's aborted attempt at Charming seemed to have confused the werewolf. It behaved as though it were angry, as though it was fighting a battle within itself. It shook its head violently, snapped at her, backed away, then launched forward again, stopping just short of a fully fledged attack.

Elena didn't understand, nor did she want to understand what was going on in its head. She wanted to get away, far away from here. Her mouth was set in a snarl as she lowered her head and took another step backwards toward the trapdoor.

All of a sudden, something seemed to snap in the mind of the werewolf and it launched towards her once again, claws outstretched, growling, salivating and snapping uncontrollably. Left with no other choice, Elena tried desperately to defend herself, rearing backwards and clawing desperately to avoid the snarling, snapping jaws. The werewolf's claws lashed out, catching her across the shoulder and raking four parallel gashes that immediately began to seep bright red blood.

Elena yelped in pain and fear, and just as suddenly as it had begun, the assault was over. The werewolf backed away, shaking its head frantically in anger or confusion or madness, it was impossible to tell which.

Without waiting for a second attack, Elena scrambled backwards to the trapdoor she had entered by. Scrabbling with her back paw, she managed to lever it open a crack. The werewolf had by now backed well away, and was hunched in a corner of the small room. Its eyes were fixed upon her and its limbs were quivering with the effort of restraint. Elena wedged the door a little further open, her lower body dropping into the passage below.

But just for a moment, before she dropped out of sight and to safety, Elena caught the werewolf's gaze.

Grey eyes, like the sky before a snow storm. 

Then the wolf threw back its head and howled. The tortured cry of unspeakable pain and unfathomable loneliness lanced through Elena like hot steel, shattering her heart.

__

No... It can't be... Remus, please, no...

The trapdoor thunked closed above her, and she was alone in the passageway beneath the house. 

Elena turned on her tail and began to run, wanting to escape all that she had just seen.

But no matter how fast she drove herself down the passage and over the grounds of the school... no matter how long she lay weeping on her bed, returned now to her human form... no matter how weak she grew as her blood continued to flow unchecked from the wound in her shoulder, soaking into her bedsheets and mingling with her tears... she still could not forget.

As long as she lived, she would never forget.


	23. The Hospital Wing

****

A/N: This is quite short, but there should be more very soon. It gets very interesting indeed in the chapter after this.... ; ) Please review!

Chapter 23.

"All right dear, hold still. This may sting a little."

Elena nodded mutely, staring straight ahead, so Madam Pomfrey dipped a small spatula into a pot of steaming purple salve. Elena didn't so much as flinch as the healing ointment was applied, but this only worried the matron more. The girl barely seemed to know where she was. She had nearly given the old nurse a heart attack earlier, when she had shown up at the door of the hospital wing in a nightdress soaked with blood, her dark hair hanging in strings about her pale face, her eyes red from crying. She had offered no explanations for her condition, and in her wisdom, Madam Pomfrey had demanded none. She simply sat the girl down, bathed the lacerations in her shoulder, prepared a stong cup of herbal tea and brushed out the girl's tangled hair.

After about half an hour of this treatment, some colour seemed to return to Elena's face, and Madam Pomfrey's sharp gaze noted the way the young woman's hand trembled a little as she replaced her empty tea cup on a small bedside table. In the nurse's mind, these were good signs. Anything was better than the symptoms of catatonic shock she had been displaying when she had first entered the ward.

After another moment's pause, Elena turned to the older woman, but did not meet her gaze. 

"You know, don't you." Her voice was flat. "You've all known all along. About Remus."

__

Ah. Now this begins to make sense. Those gashes in her shoulder... The full moon last night... And Miss Greenstone didn't know about Professor Lupin... Oh, you poor dears. What a way to find out. Poor Remus, poor child... What can I tell you now?

"Yes." Honesty seemed the best course. "I'm the school nurse, it was neccessary that I know from the first."

Elena nodded dully, then lifted her head. "Does it ... " Her voice caught, and she tried again. "Does it hurt him? Transforming, I mean?"

Madam Pomfrey considered lying, then decided there was no point. "A werewolf's transformation is involuntary. The body fights against it. I understand the pain is excruciating."

What little colour Elena had gained fled her cheeks at once. To her credit, however, her gaze did not drop. 

"How old was he?" she whispered painfully, "When he received the bite, how old?"

At this, the older witch sighed. "Too young," she replied softly, "No more than five or six. A baby. His parents did all they could for him, but as we all know... there is no cure for lycanthropy. Remus has lived with the curse all his life. I never met a boy who deserved it less."

Unable to help herself, Elena's eyes filled again with tears. She thought she had cried all she could, but Madam Pomfrey's information splintered her aching heart all over again. She was finally beginning to understand the nameless sorrow that haunted Remus's beautiful eyes. She was finally realising the full extent of the burden he carried. No wonder he had pushed her away! Poor, beloved, stupid, wonderful man. Had he thought she would turn from him if she knew? Did he mean to remain alone forever? She would never - could never - leave him to that fate. She loved him. Now that she what he was and what he had suffered, she loved him even more. When she thought of all that he had already endured, she found herself battling a powerful desire to run to his side and hold him and love him and give him all of herself, all that she could, so that he would know the worst was over. He would never be alone again.

But of course, it would never be that simple. Remus was as stubborn as he was noble. Making him see reason would not be easy. Especially not if...

"Madam Pomfrey," Elena asked urgently, "When Remus becomes human again, does he remember what happened while he was a wolf? Will he remember... I mean..." She gestured awkwardly to the magically-healing gashes on her shoulder.

The nurse looked thoughtful. "I cannot be sure either way," she mused, "Ordinarily, you see, Professor Snape prepares Professor Lupin a special concoction known as the Wolfsbane potion. If made and taken correctly, the potion enables a werewolf to retain control over its bloodthirsty instincts. He or she keeps their own mind during transformaiton. They can curl up and sleep off the curse without putting themselves or anyone else in danger. In these cases, yes, the person remembers. This month I understand there was a problem with the potion ingredients - but Remus drank what was prepared for him up until the last minute. And I don't know what effect that had on the transformation. If the potion was useless and the transformation complete, he will remember little or nothing. If the Wolfsbane had some small effect, then perhaps his mind was clearer than it would otherwise have been." Her tone became grave. "The fact that you escaped the encounter with your life rather suggests the latter. In any case, you will soon be able to ask him yourself. He will be here any minute to collect a revival potion and to have any minor injuries attended to."

Elena leapt immediately to her feet. "Then I have to go, right now," she announced urgently.

Madam Pomfrey looked startled. "Surely you aren't... Miss Greenstone - Elena - you can't just pretend this didn't happen! You have to speak to him."

"I will speak to him, but not now, not like this. He can't be allowed to know that he hurt me. Don't you see?" Elena looked searchingly into the matron's stern face. "Madam Pomfrey, you say you've known Remus since he was a boy. Surely, then, you know him well enough to realise that if he sees these silly scratches as realises their source, he will try to blame himself. And once he gets such ideas into his head, I will have no chance of ever convincing him to... to..." Elena stumbled to halt, with no idea of how to complete her sentence.

Thankfully, the nurse seemed to understand, for she hesitated, then nodded. "Very well," she said quietly, "Wait here while l fetch you some more salve. Apply it once more this evening and you should be left with only faint scars. Then you are free to go." Madam Pomfrey got to her feet and headed for her supplies office. At the door, she paused, then turned back. "Elena - know that you know... Just be careful. Be careful of you both."

Elena had the feeling she wasn't speaking of physical danger. Nonetheless, she nodded, and with that the older witch disappeared.

Moving quickly, Elena glanced around and began to gather her belongings. She balled up her bloodstained night dress and tucked it under her arm, then tightened the loose, plain robes that Madam Pomfrey had leant to her to wear while she was being treated. Impatient to be gone, she began to pace uneasily. If only she had thought to ask exactly when Remus was expected! What was taking the matron so long? Foolhardy to wait any longer! She could pick up the salve later in the day. The most important thing now was to be gone from the hospital wing before Remus turned up and started asking questions that could ruin everything. Well, what little they had, anyway.

With this decision made, Elena turned again and strode purposefully for the door.

Which abruptly opened of its own accord, stopping her dead in her tracks.

Remus entered, looking ill and exhausted. Despite her dismay at being thwarted, Elena felt her heart wrench in her chest when she looked at him.

"Remus!" His name escaped her lips before she could check it, her tone conveying her surprise and her pain in equal measures.

Remus's head jerked up, and his eyes widened in shock. "Elena! What are you doing here?"

"I - I - " Frantically, she searched her suddenly blank mind for a viable story to explain what she was doing alone in the hospital wing in the early hours of the morning. "I fell!" She managed at last. "Down the stairs."

"Are you all right?"

Her heart gave a little leap at his obvious concern. "Fine. I'm fine. Just thought I should ... come and make sure. But I'm fine."

For a moment he looked relieved, then his eyebrows drew together in a dark frown. "If you're fine," he said slowly, "Then what is that?" He gestured to the bundle she was still carrying.

Too late, Elena remembered the bloodstained nightdress she had tucked under her arm.

She looked at it blankly. "Uh - I - cut my shoulder in the fall. But I really am all right now. Madam Pomfey did a wonderful job, she says there'll only be a light scar left, so I really should be going, let you get on with ... whatever it is you're here to do."

She made to move past him, but Remus had gone very still. He did not shift from the doorway, effectively blocking her exit. He was staring at the nightdress with an expression of fierce concentration, as though he were trying to remember something.

"Elena," he said quietly, his tone perfectly even and controlled, "Show me the scar."

That brought her up short. "What?" She replied stupidly.

"The scar, Elena," he clarified patiently, "You said you cut yourself. You said Madam Pomfrey warned you there will be a light scar. I want to see it."

"Why?"

"Concern for your health?"

"I told you, I'm fine!"

"Then there should be no problem with letting me see Madam Pomfrey's good work."

Scowling outwardly and panicking inwardly, Elena reached up and pulled the neck of her robes down and to the side so that only one fast-healing slash was visible. Just as quickly, she covered it up again.

"There," she said defiantly. "Happy now?"

But far from looking gratified, Remus's carefully controlled expression seemed only to have tightened. His mouth was a grim line but his eyes were pools of horrified fear as he reached out to her, and gently tugged the robes aside again. Elena choked on a tiny sob of despair, but she knew it was pointless to try and stop him.

The pale skin of her shoulder was fully revealed, and with it, the four ugly gashes that marred it. They had long since stopped bleeding, and were already on the path to scabbing over and healing. But they were angry and red, and though the scars they left would be faint, they would be wide and jagged.

Elena could not meet his eyes as he lifted his right hand and curled his stong, blunt-nailed fingers into the semblance of a claw, as if to see if the pattern of slashes matched.

They did.

The worst silence Elena had ever endured ensued.

Finally, Remus spoke, injecting a world of accusation, disbelief and horror into one short word: "_You ! _"


	24. The Argument

**__**

A/N: Yeah, all right, I know what you're all thinking, or at least what you will be thinking very soon... "Man, this girl reads **way** too many trashy romance novels." Well, fine, guilty as charged. But don't you like the idea of a romance with Remus Lupin as the tortured hero? I do. Hence this saga of a fic, which was only supposed to be 20 chapters at the longest. Remus is more stubborn than I realised. Elena and I are doing our best, but we can't seem to convince him of what's good for him! Silly man. Well, hope you enjoy.

From the last chapter...

Elena could not meet his eyes as he lifted his right hand and curled his strong, blunt-nailed fingers into the semblance of a claw, as if to see if the pattern of slashes matched.

They did.

The worst silence Elena had ever endured ensued.

Finally, Remus spoke, injecting a world of accusation, disbelief and horror into one short word: "_You ! _"

Chapter 24.

Elena nodded miserably. She saw no point in denying it.

He seemed stunned. For a few moments his words came jerkily, his sentences disjointed. "I thought I dreamed... Another wolf... Didn't think it could have been real... Never thought that... My God, _Elena_! Do you know what you've done? I could have _killed_ you, or even worse I might have - I might have - "

"Bitten me," she supplied quietly. An image of slavering jaws snapping viviously at her face hovered for a moment in her mind. Only she knew how close she had come to sharing his curse. And that, she knew with grim certainty, would have killed them both. 

"I'm sorry," she added lamely, after another moment's pause.

Remus took a deep breath, but said nothing. In three long strides he crossed the room and seated himself in a chair, as though he hadn't had the strength to remain standing. His head dropped into his hands.

"You know, then," he said at last, lifting his head with a conscious effort. "You finally know the truth about me."

"Yes."

"I would not have had you find out in such a way. But that is my fault, of course. If I'd told you earlier, from the start, as an honourable man would have, you would not have followed me, and you would be spared your present pain. None of this would have happened at all."

To her surprise, Elena found herself battling a sudden surge of anger with him. She fought to keep her voice steady as she said icily, "If you think that my shoulder is my greatest source of pain at this moment, Remus, I can assure you that you are mistaken. As for this being your fault... Yes, I wish you had told me earlier the truth of what you suffer from. But I know why you didn't. So how is it any fault of yours that I allowed reckless curiosity to override common sense and common decency when I spied on you and tracked you out into the night?"

Remus's face registered disbelief. "Elena, I nearly killed you!"

"But you didn't."

"I hurt you."

That gave Elena pause. "Yes, you have hurt me," she agreed quietly, "I don't deny that. You've hurt me every day. And watching you sit there and try to take yet more undeserved blame upon yourself hurts me again. But I don't give a damn about my shoulder, that doesn't hurt at all. Not by comparison."

Remus blanched. "Elena, no." His voice was raw. "Please don't do this. You know what I am now, surely you understand at last why I can't... why I could never..." 

"Love me?" Elena supplied coolly, her outer calm belying her terror and confusion at the risk she was taking with her own feelings.

There was a long, awkward pause. It took more courage than Elena knew she possessed to keep her gaze level with his.

Then finally, incredibly, he spoke. "Yes."

Elena took a deep, shuddering breath. But before she could respond, he was continuing. 

"But you have got to understand, Elena. I have to make you understand. Lycanthropy is not a barrier that can be overcome. It's not some disability you can overlook or accept. I'm a _monster_, Elena. At regular intervals I lose my mind and start craving human blood. I scarcely deserve to live. I certainly can't be trusted. I can't even trust myself when I'm tranformed! Do you know what that's like? You don't, and if I have anything to so with it, you never will!"

"I don't fear you, Remus." Her voice was firm and determined.

"Then _you_ are the fool. You shouldn't even be here now. You know what I am, you must know what it means. There is no point in prolonging this conversation any further."

"I don't care what you say to me. I will not leave you. I will not turn from you."

"You _will _leave! You have to. I am good at being alone, Elena; I want to be alone. Don't you understand? I _must_ be alone!"

"Why?"

**__**

Why did she keep asking **questions**?

"Because, damn it," Remus fought very hard to maintain control of his raging emotions, "If I have to spend much more time in your company I'm going to snap under this pressure and do something I'll most certainly regret!"

For a brief moment, Elena was confused. Then awareness flowed through her, and she blushed warmly.

Remus watched the colour rise and fall in her cheeks. "You take my meaning, then," he said tightly.

Elena nodded mutely, an unreadable expression forming behind her extraordinary eyes.

"Then you see why I - "

But the rest of his sentence was lost when, without warning, the unthinkable happened. Elena stepped swiftly forward, and in one smooth unhesitating movement she reached up, linked her hands behind his head and kissed him. Really kissed him, deeply, sweetly, and hungrily.

For a moment he was too stunned to respond. He'd never been so close to a woman in his life. Never experienced anything like the sensations her feel of her mouth on his was invoking. Never known it would be like _this_...

Without consulting his brain, his body responded. His hands clenched around her waist and pulled her roughly against him as he returned her kiss like a man starved. Warnings wailed somewhere in the back of his head, drowned out by the swirling fire storms that had taken over his body.

Elena's condition was little better. She may have initiated the kiss, but she had not been prepared for such frigthening, ungovernable passion. Not his, not her own. She gasped against his mouth as his hands wandered desperately over her body, her fingers tangling in his hair. Her head dropped back as the heat of his kisses moved over her neck, and a low cry of desire escaped her.

The sound burned through Remus's brain, and awareness suddenly flooded him. All the vows he'd made, and scrupulously kept, every day of his life echoed in his thoughts. _Never get too close. Never take a risk. **Never fall in love.**_

A groan of despair tore from him as he fixed his hands on her waist and pushed her forcefully back. As soon as the heat of her body against his was gone, he felt brutally bereft, and it took every ounce of self-control he possessed not to drag her straight back into his arms again.

Elena stared at him for a moment, her expression dazed and her lips swollen and moist from his kisses. Remus searched for words, but they stuck painfully in his throat. All he could do was stare back, his breath coming unevenly, his eyes pleading with her to understand.

She did not. The glaze of passion faded from her eyes, and was replaced with slow comprehension, then pained coldness. Without a sound, she turned away from him, and strode toward the door.

"Elena!" He called her name in desperation, but had no idea of what more he could say.

She paused at the sound of her name, but did not turn around. She seemed to be waiting for something. An explanation? An apology? Another rejection? He didn't know, and could not find it in his heart to give them anyway.

"Elena please," he said at last, his voice a raw half-whisper, "It could never be, you must see that. Even if I could forget the risk of you being bitten, and you know I never could, you have to remember that lycanthropy might be otherwise transmissible, or hereditary, or - "

"Have you even tried to find out?"

Remus blinked. "What?"

Elena still did not turn around. "Have you tried to find out," she repeated, "About the 'other ways' it might be transmissible."

"But that's just it, no one knows." Remus managed a very faint, bitter smile as he added wryly, "Generally speaking, a werewolf's would-be lover doesn't stay around long enough once the truth has been revealed to ask such questions. You're a strange exception."

At that, Elena turned to face him at last, but Remus could see she wasn't smiling.

"So you are pushing me away without even knowing for certain if you have reason to?" She demanded hotly.

Remus's expression hardened. "It's not a risk I'm willing to take," he replied tersely.

"But love _is_ risk, Remus!" Elena shot back, taking a step forward, her eyes flashing furiously.

"Love is a risk, and I love you. Don't you understand? _I love you. _ I love you so much that I would risk anything for you. I would rather become a werewolf with you than live a normal life without you. There is only one thing I know that I could not bear, and that would be to stay here with you and be kept forever at an arm's length, knowing that it's because you have not the courage or the strength of feeling to take a chance on this!"

All the colour had drained from Remus's face. "Elena, no," he whispered painfully, "You don't know what you're saying..."

And suddenly, without warning, the fires dimmed in Elena's eyes. Her anger slipped away, and her shoulders slumped. 

"You're wrong, Remus," she replied, her voice only just audible, "I knew exactly what I was saying. But you have just spoken much louder, without even finding the words. Goodbye, then. Perhaps I'll see you before I leave, but if not, I wish you well. With all my heart, I wish you well."

She turned, and slipped away through the open doorway before he could even fully register the import of what she had said. One solitary word rang over and over in his head, final and damning, like a death knell.

"_Goodbye..."_

****

A/N: Would hope that by now you don't need to be reminded of this, but what the hell.... "Please review!" : )


	25. The Letter

A/N: This is dedicated to everyone. In appreciation of your patience. *apologetic (but slightly evil) grin*  
  
Chapter 25.  
  
With a hand that trembled only slightly, Elena signed her name at the end of the completed letter. Scattered around her lay several crumpled pieces of parchment, testament to several false starts. Explaining her situation to Dumbledore had not been easy, but not until it was sealed and delivered would she allow herself the luxury of tears.  
  
Getting hurriedly to her feet, she folded the parchment twice and sealed it with wax. She had intended to place the letter in her great-uncle's hand herself, but as she descended the stairs of the teacher's wing she beheld the chaos that was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry between classes. Students criss-crossed the halls like hundreds of frantic ants in a burrow, talking and laughing and shouting to be heard over the cacophony.  
  
Suddenly Elena felt desperately unequal to the task she had set herself. Surrendering to her cowardice, she reached out and tapped the shoulder of the student passing closest to her.  
  
A lean, narrow-faced blonde boy of about fifteen whirled to face her.  
  
"Excuse me, er - " she knew the boy had been in one of her classes, and she wracked her brain trying to think of his name. It did not surface.  
  
The boy looked bored, almost contemptuous. "It's Mal - " He paused, looked at her pale face and the letter clenched in her hand, and seemed to reconsider. "Draco. My name's Draco. Are you all right, Miss Greenstone?"  
  
Though she noticed his inexplicably abrupt transformation from insolent snot to concerned little gentleman, Elena cared little. "I'm quite all right, thank you. But this letter needs to be delivered to Professor Dumbledore as soon as possible." She held it out. "Would you take it? It's very important."  
  
The boy's eyes brightened and he took the parchment eagerly. "Of course, Miss Greenstone," he agreed smoothly. "That's no trouble at all."  
  
"Thank you." With that, Elena turned and climbed the stairs once more. The boy turned in the direction of Dumbledore's office. All that remained for her to do was wait for his reply. Despite her haste to be gone from Hogwarts, and all the pain she now associated with it, she knew she could not leave without seeing the man who had shown her kindness, and come to mean so much to her.  
  
An hour passed, and then another. Elena paced, wept a little, and repacked her small trunk three times. The endless minutes dragged on.  
  
Finally, an owl came sailing in through her open window, giving her a something of a fright as it swooped over her on silent wings. It dropped a letter in her lap, then circled away and left again without waiting for a reply.  
  
As she unfolded the parchment, she discovered less of a letter and more of a note.  
  
Dear Miss Greenstone, she read.  
  
There are evidently some matters of considerable importance I believe we must discuss. If you find it convenient, please meet me at the gates of Hogwarts two o'clock this afternoon.  
  
Warm regards, A.D.  
  
The gates? How odd. But there were some pretty rose gardens flanking the driveway, she recalled. Perhaps he wanted to conduct this inevitably painful conversation in those gentle surroundings.  
  
Elena checked the time. It was twenty minutes until two. The owl had delivered the letter just in time. Throwing a shawl around her shoulders, she snatched a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Frowning, she pinched at her pale cheeks to bring some colour into them. She wanted to appear as confident and firm as she could manage in this confrontation – there was no way she wanted Dumbledore to be witness to her pain.  
  
Again, she left her room and began to descend the stairs, skipping down them two at a time in her haste. But a tall, lean figure in her path brought her up short.  
  
With a short, strangled gasp, Elena gripped the banister and fell silent.  
  
For a moment, neither of them could find anything to say. Then Remus spoke, his voice holding steady only with effort.  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
It seemed such an ordinary, irrelevant thing to say when there was so much he ought to tell her, but no other words would come.  
  
"I'm … going to meet Dumbledore," Elena replied coolly. It was surreal, this conversation. She couldn't believe her bad luck running into him like this, but nor could she believe they had stopped to hold this silly, bland conversation. The instinct to end it now and walk on without another word warred with the fierce desire to stand and stare for as long as she could, to drink in a last few precious moments of his company.  
  
But the choice was, in the end, not hers to make.  
  
Minerva McGonagal, stern-faced and distracted, chose that moment to begin her ascent of the stairs. Glancing up, she noticed Remus and Elena, apparently engaged in conversation. She smiled as she approached them, and greeted them cordially. Remus nodded in mute acknowledgment and Elena gave her a forced, wan smile.  
  
Minerva paused in her step, suddenly sensing the tension between them.  
  
"Oh, I am sorry," she said, a little stiffly, "I did not mean to interrupt you." She made to climb on past up the stairway.  
  
"No, Professor McGonagal, you weren't interrupting anything," Elena assured her, placing her hand gently on Minerva's sleeve to stop her from moving on. "In fact, Professor Lupin and I were just concluding our conversation. I hope you will excuse me, but I must go, or I'll be late. Goodbye."  
  
There it was, that word again. Goodbye. How often would he have to hear it? How many times would he be forced to fight the battle it cost him to let her go?  
  
With a conscious effort, Remus controlled his desire to follow her departure with his gaze. He kept his eyes on the banister as he listened to her make her way down to the bottom of the stairs. Her footsteps faded away.  
  
He glanced at Minerva, who was looking stern as usual, but also faintly bemused by what had just taken place.  
  
"Professor Lupin…" she began, then seemed to change her mind. "Remus," she amended carefully, "I hope you don't mind me inquiring, but is there something the matter with Miss Greenstone? You both seemed rather … tense, a moment ago."  
  
Remus held Minerva's gaze and decided there was nothing to be gained by telling half truths. In any case, the woman had once been his own house mistress, and he still harboured the superstitious suspicion that she would be able to tell if he was holding something back.  
  
"Elena is leaving," he said shortly.  
  
Minerva looked extremely taken aback. "What, now?" She asked incredulously.  
  
Remus half shrugged, his casualness giving no indication of the true strength of his feelings. "Not right now. But very soon, I believe."  
  
Minerva still seemed unable to comprehend what she was hearing. "But – but term's not over yet!"  
  
Remus couldn't help a small smile at his colleague's clear demonstration of her priorities. "True," he agreed soberly, "But I suppose that doesn't matter much, on the scale of things."  
  
Minerva's expression spoke eloquently of her doubt that there could be anything more important than completing a school term. "But who will take her classes? Who will set her exams? Where will… where is she going?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"I don't mean in the future, I mean now. Look." Minerva gestured to a high window down in the hall below, through which Elena could be clearly seen - a small figure in the distance, walking purposefully down the drive that led out to the Hogwarts main gates.  
  
Remus frowned slightly. "That's odd," he said, sounding confused, "She told me she was going to see Dumbledore…"  
  
"In the gardens? What an odd place for a staff meeting. I declare, the man gets more eccentric by the day."  
  
She looked to Remus, and he smiled wanly. Somewhere in the pit of his stomach, however, a kernel of unease took seed.  
  
"You're quite right, Professor. He is an odd man indeed… Excuse me, please."  
  
Without waiting for a response, Remus turned and began to make his way toward Dumbledore's office. He was not quite sure what he was doing. Dumbledore's office would be empty, of course. He had arranged to meet Elena, so he would be long gone. But just in case… Just to make sure…  
  
Tersely, he gave the password. The door opened at once. Was that a bad sign? The uneasiness that had been growing within him expanded sharply. He hurried into the office, praying fervently that he would find it empty…  
  
Dumbledore's silver-white head lifted in surprise as Remus strode in. He had barely shaped his lips to form a greeting when Remus demanded abruptly, "Where's Elena?"  
  
The bemused smile that had briefly graced the older man's vanished abruptly. "What?"  
  
"You've not arranged to meet her?" Remus's tone was urgent. Desperate.  
  
Dumbledore was already getting to his feet. "Not recently, do I have reason to?"  
  
Remus swore passionately under his breath, and turned on his heel.  
  
Dumbledore had skirted his desk and was crossing the room with the speed of a much younger man, but Remus's long strides had already taken him halfway out the door.  
  
"I think she's in trouble, Professor," he called over his shoulder, his voice tightened with both anger and fear, "She was heading for the gates. You'll have to catch me up. I have to go, now!"  
  
He broke into a jog, and then a run.  
  
How much time did he have? It had to be enough. Because if it wasn't…  
  
No.  
  
It had to be enough… 


	26. The Survivor

**__**

A/N: I'm back, and Thailand was awesome_, I had a great time. Thank you to those of who reviewed in my absence, it was a very lovely surprise for me to come back to. Snowlily, I see you've introduced a friend who rivals your enthusiasm! Extra warm thanks to both you and Xaviera Xylira for your dedication to long and numerous reviews. The ideal readers! And eclecticmum, I hope you forgot to restock your desk, otherwise I fear I may in for more bruises. Ah, well, that's life, I suppose. See you all again soon, I hope! _

****

Chapter 26.

As Elena crossed the grounds, approaching the towering wrought iron gates that marked the entrance to Hogwarts School, she scanned her surroundings for a tall figure in bright robes.

She reached the rose gardens that flanked the drive just inside the gates with five minutes to spare before two o'clock. There was no sign of Dumbledore. This concerned her a little, for her great uncle had never stuck her as the kind of man who was late for appointments, especially when they concerned matters as important as this.

__

Important to me, anyway, she thought wryly, knowing deep down that the thought was unfair. Dumbledore would have a lot to say about her decision to leave the safety of the Hogwarts castle and grounds. It would be up to her to remain strong, and stand by her choice.

__

Strong? Questioned an unwelcome little voice in the back of her mind, _You think running away from this is 'strong'?_

Elena winced and blocked the thought with all the justifications she had already accumulated. _I can't stay. He doesn't need me. He'll never let me close. It would destroy us both if I stayed. Even if he did change his mind, I could never protect him from the Death Eaters when they come. They will kill him, the way they have killed everyone I love. I can not live with him, and I can not live without him… But I must. I have to. I have no choice, not really…_

Her heart had taken on the properties of lead - it lay heavy and bitter in her chest. Call it running away, call it an act of bravery and self-sacrifice... What did it matter? She had to leave. That was nothing else to be said.

Turning her head, Elena looked back in the direction she had come, half-expecting to see Dumbledore crossing the lawn towards her.

The castle was visible in the distance, and Elena spied movement on the wide stone stairway at its front. Squinting, she could make out a running figure. Whoever it was, they seemed in a desperate hurry to get somewhere.

Elena was so absorbed in the distant excitement that she nearly didn't hear the soft 'pop' behind her until, shockingly, she heard her own name.

"_Elena_."

All else was completely forgotten. She spun in the direction of the sound, her blood pounding and her heart barely daring to believe what her ears were telling her.

A young man with curly dark hair and smiling blue eyes stood facing her, just beyond the open gates, and outside the borders of Hogwarts. Elena's lips parted in shock, and her heart seemed to stop mid-beat. The world spun dizzily around her.

Her mouth worked silently for several moments before her throat managed to produce a raw, disbelieving, "_Gerald_?"

At the sound of his name, the young man's smile broadened, and he opened his arms to her. "Elena," he said again, his voice now tender and welcoming.

With an inarticulate cry of joy, Elena launched toward him.

Behind her, the ragged shout of "Elena, **_no _**! " went entirely unheeded. She ran forward, passing thoughtlessly through open gates and crossing the magical border that protected the grounds of the school without a second thought.

She flew to Gerald's arms in blind rapture, so overwhelmed by the shock and wonder of seeing her beloved brother alive that she scarcely had time to react when all of a sudden he stepped back from her and whipped a small velvet bag from the pocket of his jacket. She started in dazed surprise when, in the same fluid moment, he upended the bag over her hands. Instinctively, she caught the small, hard object that dropped from the little pouch.

A violent jerking motion around her midsection wrenched a cry of fear and surprise from her lips, and the next moment there was nothing but air where she had just been standing.

The dark haired young man showed no surprise at her disappearance, but the instant she was gone the warmth in his smile faded and turned to ice. With an expression of contemptuous triumph, he threw the pouch aside, and turned to face the shabbily-robed man, still sprinting with pointless determination in the direction of the gates.

His smile became mocking. The girl was gone and this fool was still two hundred yards away. Did the man really think he had a hope? He would Apparate before his would-be assailant made it within fifty feet.

The sprinting man must have seen his expression and had the same thought, because as Gerald watched, he grasped his wand and raised it in desperation. Gerald's smile became a grin. Combat spells were useless at such a distance, mostly because in the time it took a Curse to reach its intended target, said target had had time enough to form counter spells three times over.

Gerald deflected the running man's stunning charm easily, and the next with equal calm. He returned one almost lazily, and Remus deflected it without breaking in his stride.

Distracted by this amusing little game, he did not notice the blur of movement shooting across the grounds behind the man. 

His grin grew wider as Remus made it within fourty yards of him, and he prepared to Apparate away before the man's Curses began to become a real danger. 

But at that moment, something fired past the sprinting man at an unnatural speed, and with a low rush of air it was upon him. 

The shout of a youth rang out, two words in quick succession - "_Expelleramis, Stupefy_!" *

Startled and distracted by the unexpected attack, Gerald released a strangled shout of anger and surprise as his wand was wrenched from his hand and his body stiffened helplessly under the spell's command.

The speeding shape slowed down immediately, and became recognizable as a smallish, black haired boy of about sixteen, riding on the back of a gleaming broomstick. He was breathing almost as heavily as Remus as he landed smoothly beside his teacher, who was finally slowing his pace.

"Harry!" Remus managed through gasping breaths, "How - did - you - "

"It was Fawkes," Harry gasped back, not quite so out of breath as Remus. "I was at training, and Fawkes swooped onto the pitch, flew straight for me, and dropped me a note. It just said, '_To the gates, Harry, now. It may already be too late. _' So I dropped the note and flew as fast as I could, and as I crossed the grounds I saw you and this... person - " he gestured at Gerald, who was still frozen in place, his face a mask of surprise and fury - "trying to Curse one another into obliivion. You could never have beaten him from such a distance, and when you got close he was clearly going to Apparate, so I ... tried to help. I don't even know if I did the right thig yet. Who is he, Professor? What's going on?"

Remus's face twisted in bitterness and anger. Harry, who had never seen his teacher appear anything but calm and reserved, and at worst, wary or pained, was taken aback by this sudden display of naked emotion.

"Elena's gone," he spat, his breath returning now.

Harry's shock was evident in every feature. "Gone? Miss Greenstone? But why? Where?"

"Very good questions, Mr Potter. You have gotten straight to the heart of the matter in two words. Very succinct of you." The cool, clipped tones came from behind them, and they both spun around.

Dumbledore stood behind them, having arrived at a slightly more dignified pace. His face and robes were familar recogizable to them, but his usually kindly eyes flashed like blue ice, and neither of them had seen anyhing of the like before.

"The first question," Dumbledore continued calmly, "Will take rather too long to explain just now. Suffice to say that Miss Greenstone is without a doubt in very grave danger. The _second_ question, however, is one which we would all like to know the answer to. And I think that you, sir," he stared coldly at Gerald, "Will be just the man to help us with our enquiries."

Abruptly, Dumbledore's voice lost all semblence of politeness. He muttered a few words under his breath, and Gerald found the use of his mouth returned to him.

"Tell us who you are," the old Headmaster demanded tightly.

"Gerald Greenstone," returned the paralysed man contemptously.

Dumbledore's silver eyebrows jerked up ward. "Is that so?" He said musingly. "I am glad to hear that."

Both Remus and Harry looked at him in surprise.

"You will come up to the castle with us, 'Gerald Greenstone', and you will tell us what you know." Dumbledore's voice was hard once more.

"I will tell you nothing."

"You will tell us," said Dumbledore calmly, in a voice which brooked no contradiction, "Everything."

He turned to Harry. "You have already been of great assistance, Harry, and I thank you. But I have one more task to ask of you before you return to your training."

Harry looked surprised, for he had forgotten all about training, but he nodded and prepared to climb off his broom. The older man stopped him.

"You will need your broom. I would like you to fly back to the castle and find Professor Snape. He is usually in his dungeon at this time of day, so you should have no trouble. Warn him that we are coming and tell him to prepare himself. We will need his help in this."

Harry's lip twisted wryly at the task, but he nodded again and kicked off to deliever the message.

Dumbledore turned to find Remus looking dubiously at him. He guessed his one-time-student's thoughts, and shook his head. "I know you don't think well of Severus, Remus. And I know you each have your reasons for disliking one another. But you are about to discover just how useful a man he can be. Decide now if you can bear to be in his debt, because if we ever see Elena alive again, it will be through his help."

"Headmaster," Remus said heavily, uncaring of what his words would reveal about his feelings, "Right now I can't think of _anything_ I wouldn't do if it would save her life."

Dumbledore looked at him piercingly for one long moment, then nodded as if something had been decided. "Good," he said shortly. "And now we must hurry. Bring '_Gerald'_ over there and come with me. I don't know how much time we will have."

* _A/ N: My apologies if these spell names are inaccurate. My HP books are all on loan at the moment. I welcome corrections if they're needed._


	27. The Potions Master

**Chapter 27.**

Remus had half expected Severus to slam to door in Harry's face when the boy delivered his message.  He was only too conscious of the Potions Master's aversion to himself, and he was by no means oblivious to Snape's thinly veiled attempts to undermine his relationship with Elena.  

The irony of that mission had brought many a bitter smile to Remus's lips over the past few weeks.   Snape really needn't have bothered.  Remus had proven himself quite capable of sabotaging his own relationships without any help from outside.

Yet when he and Dumbledore arrived in the dungeons with the helpless Gerald in tow, they found the door to Snape's office open, and the dour Potions Master waiting for them.

His black eyes flicked coldly over both Remus and the furious, paralysed young stranger, coming to rest on Dumbledore's face.

"Veritaserum?" He asked directly, without waiting for an explanation or request.

Dumbledore nodded gravely.  "As quickly as possible," he affirmed, "Time is a precious resource in this matter."

The potion was swiftly located and unstoppered, and forced down Gerald's unresisting throat.  Again, Dumbledore had to partially relax the petrifying charm in order to let the man swallow, and then talk.

"Now," Dumbledore said coolly, as though discussing nothing more serious than bad weather, "What is your name?"

The man seemed to fight against answering, but was inevitably overcome by the power of the potion.  "Travim … " he ground out, "Marcus Travim."

Dumbledore nodded, seemingly unsurprised.  He looked to Snape, whose inky black eyes were now glittering with both recognition and distaste as he watched the man being questioned.

"Do you know him, Severus?" Dumbledore asked bluntly.

Severus nodded once, not taking his eyes off Travim.  "I do," he said flatly, his voice betraying no emotion.  "A would-be Death Eater, but not one of the inner circle.  Desperate for acceptance, though.  He had a friend when I knew him – an equally nasty specimen names Skarns, just as rabid with ambition.  Something tells me that if you find him, you will have found Miss Greenstone."

Dumbledore turned back to Travim, fixing him with an icy stare.  "Is this true?" he demanded.

"Yes," choked Travim.  "Elena Greenstone would be with Skarns by now."  He was beginning to look a little strange.  He seemed… fuzzy around the edges.

"Why did you kidnap Elena Greenstone?  Did you mean to kill her?"

Remus stared at Dumbledore, awed by the older man's steely composure.   How much it must have cost him to even voice such a possibility!  Remus himself felt nauseous at the very thought of what might be happening even as they spoke, yet neither Dumbledore's tone nor his freezing gaze had wavered.

"We – wanted – to win favour – the Dark Lord – reward – " Travim fought against every word that tore involuntarily from his throat.  Dumbledore gave an impatient nod, and more potion was administered.  Travim began to speak more fluidly, totally helpless to resist the compulsion to tell the whole truth.

"We wanted to win favour with the Dark Lord.  We knew he would rise again and he has.  We had to perform some great task, something he would see as worthy of reward.  We discovered the reclusive branch of the Dumbledore line by accident, but knew it was our one chance to win the Dark Lord's notice and gratitude.  We investigated Dumbledore's missing brother then finally managed to trace the generations down to the Greenstones last year.  We killed three of them, but one got away and one we captured.  We knew he was only a foundling child, and not a Dumbledore, so we … kept him, in case he came in handy on our mission to kill the last Greenstone.  Not until she was dead did we intend to present our deeds to the Dark Lord.  That was the plan.  But the Dark Lord discovered our quest through his own sources, and now he wants to interview the last of the Dumbledore line before we kill her."

"Why?"  Remus heard his own voice, sharp and biting. 

"Because he wants to see if she could be turned," Travim answered helplessly.  "Because he likes the idea of having the last of the Dumbledore line, the last of the truly great white witches, in thrall to him."

His shape really was wavering now.  The handsome young man with striking blue eyes was … rippling, shrinking, reshaping himself into another form.  All at once, like a plug had been pulled, the first man drained away leaving the apparent dregs: a small and rather unprepossessing specimen of about twenty-eight, with sandy hair, watery brown eyes and a broad, red-splotched face.

"That would be the end of the poly-juice's effect," Dumbledore observed dryly, "Now we can be certain that Gerald Greenstone lives still.  Tell us now, Travim, where has Elena been port-keyed to?"

Travim's face nearly seemed to collapse on itself with the effort of trying withold his answer, but to no avail.  "An abandoned flat above a disused shop front.  Number 57 Knockturn Alley."

"And what wards are in place?" Snape demanded sharply, his eyes narrowing.  "What excruciating and fatal curses have you derived to defend your little rat hole?"  He seemed to know exactly how his repulsive little man's mind would work.  The observation chilled Remus, even while he was grateful for the man's dark intelligence.

In halting spurts, Travim described the two possible methods of accessing the flat, and the ways to avoid the many nasty Curses and locks that guarded each one.

Remus listened more intently than he'd ever listened in his life.

Even now, Elena might be facing Voldemort.  He could almost see her, standing before the Dark Lord with her chin thrust defiantly in the air, her dark hair framing her pale face, taut with fear but beautiful in her bravery.  She _would_ be brave, he knew that.  And she would never compromise with darkness, he knew that too.  

If only she were canny enough to bargain for a while, to draw her time out!  Then perhaps he would have a chance of getting to her before it was too late…  But he just couldn't see her playing the sly betrayer or the malleable, greedy young witch, not even as part of an act.  

She would spit at the feet of the most powerful dark wizard in the world and go to her death without flinching, but she would not turn.  And she would not deceive.  And it would be her undoing.

Remus looked to Dumbledore, and found Dumbledore looking back at him.  The older man's eyes were no longer cold – they were filled to the brim with a hundred emotions.  Remus couldn't imagine what his own gaze was reflecting, but the glance they exchanged spoke thousands of words, all of them raw and stricken.

And Remus realized that Elena's death would not be her undoing.  

It would be the undoing of them all.

Swallowing hard, Remus became aware that Dumbledore was speaking, and that he ought to be concentrating on every word.

"…remember what I told you that night – about the Heirs of Dumbledore?"

Remus shook his head, confused by the question.

"I _said_," Dumbledore repeated urgently, "That we – the Heirs of Dumbledore - have all been born with an innate measure of protection against the Unforgivable curses.  Not immunity, I told you.  'A few extra defences'.  _Elena doesn't know what these are_.  She doesn't know she has this power, she doesn't know how to use it.  I couldn't teach her without being sure, but it's too late for that now.  I will have to go with my instincts."

Remus stared at the Headmaster in bewilderment, wanting to ask what it was he had not been sure of, but the gaze Dumbledore fixed upon him did not brook questions.

"What she needs a talisman," he said intensely, "And this talisman can only be one thing.  It must be the thing that she loves best in the world.  And I believe that is you, Remus.  Whatever else may have gone on between you, I believe you are her talisman.  You're the only thing that can save her life."

For one long moment, Remus could only stare at the grave-faced old man.  A thousand puzzle pieces that had never quite fit were suddenly cast up into the air, falling to earth again to give an entirely new picture.  It all made sense now… and yet at the same time it made no sense at all.

"You _planned_ this –" he choked out at last, "Not this nightmare, I know, but _us_…  Her and I…  Bringing us to Hogwarts…  Putting us together...  You knew from the _start_ that I would -  That she needed - That she would – "

"I brought you both to Hogwarts for different and valid reasons, Remus," Dumbledore reprimanded sharply.  "I don't have the time or the inclination to run a single's service!"

Remus blushed intensely.  What a ridiculous thing to have accused Professor Dumbledore of.  For one sublimely idiotic moment there he had convinced himself that the Headmaster had engineered his meeting with Elena, somehow knowing that they would fall for one another, and then subtly encouraged them as their feelings for each other grew stronger and stronger.  All so that the girl who was all alone in the world with nothing left to love would have her talisman.  Him.

What stupidity.

Remus was still cursing himself for his demented outburst when the Headmaster continued in a slightly softer tone, "On the other hand…  I will admit it was clear to me that she needed someone.  Almost as much as you did.  And she needed someone who could take care of her, as you needed someone to protect.  You'd both been long enough on your own."

Remus met Dumbledore's gaze and his blush turned to pallor.  He had been _right_ – the Headmaster _had_ played matchmaker.  And the earth turned upside down all over again as his incredulity returned.  

"But _why choose me_ to be her protector?" He begged, stricken.  "Headmaster - I'm a _werewolf_!"

"I'm aware of that, Remus," Dumbledore replied quietly, "But you are also a good man.  And though I have never said it, I love you like a son."  Remus flinched at this, perhaps in pain and perhaps in surprise but most likely in both.  "Whatever you may believe, you are worthy of Elena, and she is worthy of you.  And that is high praise for you both."

"But enough of this!  Remember what I told you - I believe _you _are her talisman.  As long as she maintains physical contact with you, she can withstand an Unforgivable curse.  She will not be immune to them.  I doubt she would survive being struck more than twice.  But it is something.  Perhaps it will give you both a chance.  Now go!  Severus will have floo powder enough to get you to the fireplace at Flourish and Blotts.  Make your way to Knockturn Alley from there, enter number fifty seven the way Mr Travim so kindly described for you.   I do not know what you will find after that.  But good luck to you.  Don't forget anything I said tonight."

Remus nodded determinedly, struggling to push the swirl of questions and emotions he felt to one side so that he could concentrate on the task at hand.

He looked at Snape, and without being asked, the surly, dark haired man held out a tin of floo powder.  Remus had not even seen him reach for it, but again, he was there when he was needed, grave and dependable.  An unlikely ally, but a true one.

His dour expression did not change as Remus accepted a pinch, but Remus smiled at him anyway, a swift half-smile of gratitude, and an offer of truce.  Snape did not smile back, but he nodded very slightly, and that was enough.

Remus reached the fireplace in three long strides, took a deep breath, and with a sharp flick of his wrist he tossed the golden powder into the leaping flames.

_Let me succeed, _he prayed with silent fervour to a faceless deity, _I swear I'll never ask for anything again as long as I live, only let me succeed in this, **please**_. 

_I just can't lose her now._


	28. The Death Eater

**A/N: **_Hello all!  Before you read this, please go back and read chapter 27 again.  It has been extended, and contains some important little tidbits of information, not to mention a little more about Snape for Kwinelf.  Snowlily and eclecticmum, I'm working on that happy ending, but things look pretty grim right now I'm afraid.  And Xaviera, Chalice, Sabre gurl, Tessie, and Lady Lupin – thank you for saying lovely things and for having patience.  Rugi and Gwena, I stumbled across your 'Guide to Harry Potter Fan Fiction' the other day and was very entertained by your perceptiveness.  I'm waiting apprehensively for the letter 'R' for 'Remus stories' and 'Remus/OC romances'.  I think I'm afraid to read it.  Anyway, the chapter after this is going to be a bit of a challenge to write, but I'll do my best and the next installment hopefully won't be more than a week away.  Ciao!_

**Chapter 28.**

Elena hurtled helplessly through the nameless darkness for what might have been seconds but what felt like minutes.  When her feet suddenly struck solid ground, she was unprepared and stumbled forward a few steps before finding her balance.

She glanced around, disbelieving and frightened.

Was this some kind of trick?  Some kind of illusion?

The gardens at Hogwarts were gone.  The gates were gone.  _Gerald_ was gone.

Instead, she now seemed to be alone in a large, dimly lit room she had never seen before.  It looked like it had once belonged to someone with a taste for affluent living, but it had seen better days.  The over-stuffed, finely upholstered couch that had been pushed up against the battered, paneled wood wall to her right was grubby with dust and fraying at some of the seams.  The wide bay window to her left was half-obscured by semi-drawn, heavy, moth-eaten velvet curtains, and the glass was so dirty that the scant light that struggled though it had an unhealthy grey tinge.  

In front of her was an enormous stone fireplace, and in the hearth a few sad coals still smoked.  She noticed for the first time that the room was chilled.  In front of the fireplace was a massive armchair, but instead of being placed so that it faced the warmth of hypothetical flames, it had been turned around to face down the mostly empty room.

The middle of the room had been cleared completely, as though in preparation for something.  Elena felt very exposed, standing alone in the large open space.

She looked down at the dark gemstone she still clutched in her fist.  

Gerald had given it to her, and she had been whisked away to this strange and sinister place.  Against her will.

How could it have been Gerald, though?  Gerald was dead...

Confused and frightened, she threw the object away.

It bounced up against the couch with a strangely hollow clunking sound.

"Thank you," came a voice from behind her.  Elena jumped, and turned.

A tall, thin man with sparse gingery hair and a long face strolled into her field of vision and picked up the black stone using a thick piece of cloth.  He straightened up, saw her staring, and gave a smug smile, revealing crooked teeth.

"Portkey," he explained, oozing self-satisfaction.  "Clever, don't you think?  I was wondering how to get it off you before you realized that dropping it and picking it up again would take you straight back to Hogwarts again."

Elena stared at the stranger in distaste, feeling instant repulsion.  Coupled with her fear, it left her feeling distinctly ill.

"Who are you?" she demanded coldly, her voice surprisingly steady.

"Skarns is my name," he bowed extravagantly and without grace.  "And I believe you've already been introduced to my good friend Trav – "

Skarns paused, as though suddenly realizing something.  His eyes narrowed.  "Where _is _Travim?"

Elena stared at him without comprehension.  Her mind searched frantically for answers, struggling to put the scrambled pieces of what had happened together in some semblance of order.  

Two coherent thoughts managed to pull clear of the mayhem.  One was the realization that the man who had stood at the gates and opened his arms to her had not been – could not possibly have been – her brother Gerald.  The second was linked to a wisp of a memory…  A shouting voice…  

_… Elena, no! …_

Someone had called her name.  Just as she crossed the boundary of the school to cast herself into the hands of her enemies, someone had called out…__

Remus.  Of course it had been Remus.

So the other man, the one who had pretended to be Gerald to lure her off Hogwarts grounds…  That had to be Travim, the one in league with Skarns.  And Skarns had expected Travim back by now.  So something had happened to Travim before he could Disapparate away from the school.  

…And Remus had been behind her.  Remus had seen her disappear.

Remus was what had happened to Travim, she was sure of it.  He had gone into danger for her, he had tried to save her.  It didn't matter that he had failed.  A sudden flood of warmth caught her low in the stomach, and for a fleeting moment her features softened and she forgot her present danger as she thought of just how much she loved that man.

"Travim will not come," she said softly, but with absolute confidence.

Skarns looked at her sharply.  "What do you mean?" He snapped, his self-assurance slipping slightly as the possibility of having to face an unanticipated problem was raised.  "What's happened to Travim?"

Elena half-shrugged.  "I don't know," she replied truthfully, then added bitterly - "Was Travim the one you magicked to look like my brother?"

"How do you know the man at the gates wasn't your brother?"

"I didn't at first.  But if he had been, I would be with him now and not here with you.  Besides, it was a moment of extreme foolishness on my part.  I know my brother is dead."

Despite the lines of worry etched in his forehead, Skarns could not pass up a chance to patronise and gloat.  "Ah, yes, your brother," he agreed, "Your brother who is not in fact your brother at all, but an orphaned no body without a drop of Dumbledore blood in his veins.  How close we came to writing him off as useless and killing him then and there that night."

Elena felt her heart skip dangerously.  She stared at Skarns for a moment, trying to understand.  Her stunned consciousness was capable of adhering to one thought only: _He said 'is'.  Not 'was'.  My brother **is**._

"Gerald is alive…" she whispered, a mantra of impossible hope and disbelieving joy, "Gerald is alive…"

Skarns shrugged negligently.  "Of course he's alive!  You must know how a Polyjuice potion works, surely.  A brew is no good unless it's reasonably fresh, and it requires a piece of the subject, which is hard to come by if you've killed him off.  We used him for information about you, too, but it didn't help us much.  In the end it came down to using our own wiles, and – "

"Where is he?" Elena interrupted desperately, unable to care less about Skarns's disproportionately high opinion of himself and burning for more news of the brother she thought she had lost.

Skarns frowned, cross at having been cut off just as he got the part about himself.  "He's asleep," he said, a little petulantly, "He's been having a very long sleep.  But now that we have you we have no further use for him."  

Elena paled, and a sly glint sparked to life into Skarns's eyes.  "I would be happiest just to kill him out of hand," he said carelessly, and something in his voice left Elena with numb the certainty that this was true.  

"But you may be interested to know," he continued, lowering his voice confidentially, "That there are other forces at work now.  And apparently, his fate is to be placed in _your_ hands."

Elena swallowed hard.  She had to ask, although she already knew she would not like the answer.  "What would I have to do," she said, fixing her gaze steadily on his face, "For you to let him go free?"

The corner of Skarns's mouth quirked.  "Say a few words, a few harmless little words…"

Elena refused to lose her patience.  "What words?"

"The words of sworn allegiance to the Dark Lord."

Elena stared at him for a long moment.  "Voldemort," she said flatly.

Skarns winced, and his gaze skittered nervously from left to right, as if he expected the Dark wizard to show up behind him at any moment.

"Don't say his name like that," he hissed, stalking over to the grubby window and peering uneasily out, keeping his body behind the curtains as though afraid of being seen.  "He could be here at any moment."  He checked his watch compulsively.  "He is supposed to be here now," he added nervously, and then in an undertone: "Damn, I wish Travim were here.  How am I going to explain what went wrong?  Never thought I'd have to face the Dark Lord _alone_…"

He threw a fretful glance over his shoulder at Elena, who was watching in bemusement as his personality pendulumed from gloating villain to nervous wreck.  He was a man on the edge of his sanity, she thought, but he had been there so long he was not even aware of the contradictions in his behaviour.

"Why is Voldemort," she relished his flinch when she spoke the name, "Why is Voldemort coming here?"

Skarns gave a snort of exasperation at her stupidity, but did not turn away from his vigil at the window.  "To turn you, of course," he said, as though it should have been obvious.  "He wants you on his side, working for him."  Then he added, with a touch of bitterness, "You should be honoured.  I've been waiting fifteen years for such an invitation."

Elena chose to ignore that for now.  "But why," she asked carefully, "Does he want me?  Because I am an Heir of Dumbledore?  My whole family were Heirs of Dumbledore, yet you…" she swallowed, struggling not to let emotions cripple her now, "You killed them without qualms or hesitation."

At this, Skarns looked slightly uncomfortable, but apparently not from guilt.  "Well, Voldemort wasn't back in power then.  But we knew he would return, and we wanted something to offer him, you see.  Some proof of our loyalty, some achievement he would appreciate and see fit to reward.  We were going to wipe out the last line of Dumbledores.  We would have succeeded that night if it hadn't been for you and your damned irritating escape.  We were still searching for you, still on your tail, when we heard that Voldemort was returned to power and that he knew of our mission.  We were … " Skarns swallowed, as though just the memory brought the fear rushing back, but continued nonetheless, "We were brought before him, and he … commended us for our loyalty but … condemned us for our rashness.  We had been presumptuous, he said, to take on his enemies without his knowledge or permission.  We were charged with a new mission – to find you, but bring you to him alive.   Because, like I said, he likes the idea of having the last of the great white witches and Dumbledore's only living family, in thrall to him."

Elena shook her head.  "Never," she said simply, her gaze defying him to contradict her.  "I will never turn."

But Skarns only smiled.  

"Never is a very long time," he said, almost conversationally.  His pale blue gaze met hers.  "I'm not a terribly persuasive man, Miss Greenstone.  The Dark Lord, on the other hand, is generally found to be very persuasive indeed.  You probably think you would rather die than join him, but that is only because you don't realise yet that there are many things worse than death.  And if you defy him, the Dark Lord will make very certain that you experience them all."

A strange, cold light lit his eyes as he looked her up and down.  "It's not a matter of whether or not you will obey him ultimately," his tone all the more terrifying for its neutrality, "It's a matter of how much pain you choose to endure first."

Elena took an involuntary step back on unsteady legs.  Cold fear was creeping over her skin like a clammy fever, while her stomach felt totally hollowed out.

She was acutely aware of her own weakness.  She was only human.  She had no idea how long she would be able to withstand the refined torture of a master of evil before her body betrayed her to the darkness.  She was not that strong.

But then… if she turned…  She would never see Remus again.  Never be able to take his hand, never have the right to look into his eyes, never be worthy to love him, let alone retain his love.  She would he his enemy.  Dumbledore's enemy.  Light's enemy.  And she could not do it.  She could never do that.

"I will not turn," she said aloud, and nearly dissolved with relief at the certainty she heard in her own voice.  Her spine straightened, and she met his gaze directly.  "I will never turn."

For a moment, Skarns returned her stare.  Then he seemed to shrug as though he felt she had been duly warned and that what she chose to do next was not his problem.

"The Dark Lord will be here soon," he said shortly, "Take it up with him."

He turned his attention back to the window, checked his watch again, and resumed his vigil.

Elena had no choice but to wait with him.


	29. The Dark Lord

**_A/N_**_: Argh!  What happened to the time?  More importantly, what happened to *leisure* time?  I have a 40% exam on Thursday on biochemical genetics (!!) and I really shouldn't be doing this now… but know I've already put it off too long.  I hope you'll forgive the technical errors that are doubtless scattered throughout this chapter… but at least it's up, right?  _: )  _Please review and make my hectic life that little bit brighter. _ ; )  _See ya!_

**Chapter 29.**

Remus ran his hands frantically over the smooth surface of an apparently bare wall.  There was almost no light here, but his eyes were used to the dark so that scarcely hindered him.

Muffled by brick and mortar, he could hear voices in the next room.  A harsh, high-pitched monologue, interspersed with a few soft low words of defiance.  Though he could make out no words, he knew without a doubt whom each voice belonged to.  

Voldemort… and Elena.

So at least he knew now that she lived, and that she seemed unhurt.  So far.

If he could only break through this last ward!

He pulled out his wand and touched its tip to the blank wall.  Blue light radiated out, rippling over the wall's surface and filling every tiny crack, searching out any hairline split that might trace the border of a concealed entrance.

On the other side of the wall, the harsh voice swelled in sudden anger.  Remus felt an icy hand clutch at his heart.  _Don't push him, Elena.  I'm so close, I'm nearly there!  Just a few more minutes and I will be there, I will be with you.  Don't you dare slip away from me now, not when I'm so …_

A single harshly emphasised word was spoken.

Every joint in Remus's body twisted in sick horror as a hideous scream rent the air.

_Elena!_

The sheet of blue light that still covered the wall before him flashed red as emotion seared through him, and in an uncontrolled burst of magic the bricks blew apart.

Lumps of rock and plaster flew in all directions, and a cloud of gritty grey dust billowed out, filling the room.  Very slowly, it began to drift to earth again, settling on a silent tableau of shock, surprise, and fury.

Voldemort was seated in the enormous armchair that had been turned to face the cleared room, his ravaged face incensed with anger.  Skarns stood to his left, his jaw slack with horror and incredulity.

And Elena was lying stomach-down on the floor, her breath coming in soundless gasps.  She had lifted her head and was staring at him in dumb disbelief with eyes still glazed by pain.  Whether she had fallen in her agony after the application of the Cruciatus curse or been thrown to the ground in the explosion he had inadvertently caused, Remus did not know.  

He only knew he had to get to her.

Oblivious to anyone else in the room, Remus started forward.

Stirred into response at last, Skarns stepped into his path.  Terrified of the Dark Lord's reaction to such an interruption, he blustered furiously: "I don't know who the hell you are, sir, or how the hell you got in here… but I do know you just made a _very_ big mistake."

Distracted by Elena, Remus almost missed it when the man reached for his wand.  Luckily, his instincts still functioned efficiently enough to match the Death Eater's draw.

At such close range, they might easily have Cursed one another into oblivion, but that fate was averted by a single, sharply spoken word from the direction of the fireplace.

"_Expelliramus._"

Both wands were jerked from their grips, whisked across the room, and caught neatly in Voldemort's long, elegantly fingered hands.

"Gentlemen, please," he drawled in admonition.  "There is a lady present.  Show a little restraint."  His tone sharpened.  "I am especially disappointed in you, Skarns.  I expected better."

Skarns gulped convulsively.  "My apologies, Master."

"We do not even know our visitor's name!  His purpose for being here is apparent," (his eyes flickered pointedly over the prostrate Elena) "But the means by which he discovered your lair and broke your wards is not.  In this case, I think it is probably worthwhile to ask questions first, and kill later.  Dead men can't talk, Skarns, and necromancy would involve a _lot_ of unnecessary effort."

"Yes, Master," Skarns agreed humbly, with nauseating abjectness.

Voldemort turned his attention to Remus.  "So," he demanded, "Your name?"

Remus eyed the repulsive creature warily, trying to subdue his racing pulse.  "Jack Tibalt," he replied, pulling the name from thin air.

Voldemorts red-tinged eyes narrowed.  "You lie," he said flatly.  "And that is not wise."

Remus shrugged very slightly.  "Remus Lupin, then."  Lying again would be futile, he realized, and to goad the Dark Lord with secrecy over such a small matter would be foolish in the extreme.

To his surprise, Voldemort's face registered recognition.  "Ah," he said knowingly, "I know that name.  Dumbledore's pet werewolf.  Interesting.  Very interesting."

"Werewolf?" Skarns repeated fearfully, taking a step back.

Remus's path to Elena was left clear, and he immediately stepped forward, giving her his hand and pulling her to her feet.  Trying not to be too obvious about it, he kept hold of her hand.

"You've heard of me?"  Remus turned back to Voldemory, genuinely astonished.  Even so, he could not waste time on such an irrelevant emotion.  His kept his expression fixed as one of surprise and wary curiosity, but all the while his gaze was swiftly sweeping over the rubble-strewn room.  He was searching for inspiration, something that might give both he and Elena a chance of escaping this nightmarish situation with their lives.  

There were the bay windows to their left which he might be able to smash through given the chance… but they were a floor up and there was a considerable drop to the street below.  The blasted wall behind them was an option, but the narrow hallway strewn with half-disabled wards would slow them down.  And neither option would be possible until they had subdued or distracted their enemies.  But Elena was weak and he was without his wand.  The only other weapon to hand was a rusty looking sword, hanging on the wall to his right, above the moth-eaten couch.

Meanwhile, the Dark Lord's expression had turned smug and calculating.  "Of course I know you," his lips thinned in what might have once been a smile, "I have spent these past months searching out all the Dark Creatures that are roaming without friends or purpose through a world that has cast them out.  I have been offering them an alternative – a world in which they are no longer the hated outcasts, but the lords and masters of all those who once spurned them.  A world in which they will be both great and powerful.  All they need do is swear fealty to me, and serve in my army when the time for battle comes.  I have been particularly impressed with the skills and … fervent enthusiasm of your werewolf brothers.  In fact, I plan to include a regiment of them in my army.  What do you say to that idea, Remus Lupin?"

Remus's forced himself to look at the Dark Lord, and hurriedly reviewed the mad oration he had only half been listening to.  One phase suddenly leapt out at him.  _I plan to include a regiment of them …_

"A … regiment?"  He repeated warily.  "A whole regiment?  There are … that many of us?"

Voldemort waved an impatient hand.  "Of course there are.  You aren't exactly taking over, but werewolves are talented at personal concealment as I'm sure you yourself are well aware.  There are more of you than you think.  So, Lupin – will you join your brethen in the greatest army the wizarding world has ever seen?"

Shrugging off his bewilderment at the Dark Lord's bombshell, Remus managed to steel his face into an expression of cool blankness.  _The sword_, he was thinking.  _The sword is going to be our only hope._

 "I have met few of my own kind," he confessed aloud, trying to sound wistful and tempted.  "I have always been alone.  The idea of being part of such a great endeavour side by side with others like me does hold appeal, Lord."  But as he spoke, his eyes flickered again to the sword on the wall.  Betraying him.

Following the line of Remus's gaze, Voldemort gave a grunt of contempt, and suddenly seemed to lose his temper with the whole situation.  "Do you really think to trick me?  Do you think you can defeat me?  You and the girl are each as foolish as the other!" He leaned back, red fire snapping in his eyes.  "What good are you to me?" he hissed, "You are both tainted, tainted beyond recovery with Dumbledore's pitiful notions of watery nobility.  You could have had glory.  You could have had power.  You could have at least have lived to see another day!  But thanks to your pathetic ideologies you will have precisely none of these things.  Such a waste.  I can't even bring myself to look upon you a moment longer.  Skarns?"

"Yes Master?"

"Kill them.  Kill them both."  The man's wand flew swiftly across the room, returning to his trembling grasp.

Skarns hesitated.  "Yes Master," he whispered, and turned to face Elena and Remus.

Remus swallowed hard and stole a look at Elena, wondering what he should do next, knowing there was nothing he could do.  Wondering if it really was possible that she loved him _more than anything.  _For that was what Dumbledore had said – if the ward was to work, she had to love him more than anything else in the world.  There was still a part of him that refused to accept that this could be true.  And yet it was their only hope.  His only hope.  The only hope he would ever have…

"Hold on to me," he whispered to her.  "No matter what else happens, don't let me go."

She looked at him, her eyes wide and uncomprehending.  She knew nothing of Dumbledore's theory, or of the magical immunity she supposedly possessed for as long as she remained in contact with Remus.

Despite being unsure of his meaning, however, she was certain of her own.  

"I will _never_ let you go," she whispered, her voice rough.  Her smaller hand was almost lost in his large palm, but her fingers tightened firmly around his.

Remus's breathing hitched strangely, and his gaze instantly sought her face.  She met his stare directly, and something in his chest constricted fiercely.  Without fear, without recrimination, and without reserve, she let her eyes speak the contents of her soul.  Her bravery humbled him, and vulnerability bound him to her with irresistible forces he could not understand or explain.  He only knew he needed her.  He loved her.  And she was his.

Uncaring of their perilous situation, and without a thought of their hostile audience, Remus reached out to her.  Taking her head swiftly between his hands, he kissed Elena with all that was in his heart.  If they were about to die, then she would die knowing what she meant to him.

The flash of green light in the corner of his vision made him wince, and an instant later he felt a powerful bolt of coldness strike with physical force.  Their mouths jolted apart but Remus kept Elena tightly within the circle of his arms, shielding her as best he could with his body.

He felt icy green energy crackling over their embracing form, pervading his skin and sinking through his tissues towards his heart.  He could feel its progress, could feel the cold onset of death as his blood vessels filled with the vile green magic.

So, they were going to die.  Dumbledore had been mistaken after all.  The magic was winning and they were going to die.  Despairing but defiant, Remus tightened his embrace protectively around Elena's upper body, and closed his eyes.


	30. The Sword

**ANZAC day.**

**_Lest we forget._**

****

**_A/N: Again, can't believe I'm doing this the day before an exam.  Anyway, thanks for your reviews everyone (and I do mean _**_everyone**).  Let me know what you think of this instalment…  I would **_very**_ much like to know.    *enigmatic smile*    Right.  As exciting as my author's note invariably is, it's time to drag yourself away and read on…   : )_**

**Chapter 30.**

Elena clenched her hands in Remus's shirt, pressing her face tightly against his chest.  With each shallow, fearful breath she inhaled the scent of him, and in the midst of all the horror felt a small spurt of fierce, desperate joy that he was here, that she was in his embrace at last.

The cold green energy felt corrupt on her skin, and as it pervaded her lifeblood she grimaced, pressing close to Remus with more fervency than ever.  Visions of her family's murder flooded her mind, and she was helpless to block them.

_This is _it, she thought, a little hysterically.  _This is what they felt, just before they died...  I never wanted it to be like this.  Even the times I wanted to die…  Remus, I love you… it was never meant to be like this…_

Just as the cold seemed poised to invade her heart, Elena felt a blast of heat flare to life in the very core of her being.  The intensity of the sensation made her gasp.  And then, miracle of miracles, she felt the ice receding, driven back by the stunning warmth.

She opened her eyes just in time to see the green energy condensing and rebounding, striking a horrified Skarns directly in the stomach.  With a low grunt of surprise and pain, he doubled over, clutching his abdomen.

The entire sequence of events had taken mere seconds.

Elena could feel herself trembling slightly, and pressed tightly against Remus, she could feel that he was being affected in the same way.  She felt him relax his hold on her a little, and she raised her head to stare into his face.

"Are you all right?"  He asked softly, his voice emerging as a harsh whisper.

"No," she answered hoarsely, "I thought we were dead…  Why didn't we die?  What just happened?"

"A good question, Miss Greenstone," Voldemort's voice, tight with anger and edged with infuriated confusion, interrupted them.  "A _very_ good question.  Skarns!"

At the sound of his name, Skarns managed to straighten up.  "Yes… Master?" he groaned.  The reflected spell had not killed him, but it clearly had not done him any good, either.

Voldemort raised his hand, palm vertical, to the wall on his left.  The sword mounted there rattled ominously, then wrenched away from its mount, scabbard and all.  Instead of gliding towards Voldemort, however, it swept across the room and struck Skarns hard across the chest and stomach.  He grunted and grasped it automatically.

Voldemort's eyes were slits of cold fire.  "Kill them," he said flatly.  "I don't know what magic protects them, but we shall see how well it deflects a steel blade through the heart."

In a sharp movement that made him wince visibly, Skarns wrenched the old sword from its scabbard.  It scraped free, rusty and blunted.  He stared at it for a moment as though he was having trouble reasoning what to do next.

From where he was sitting, Voldemort gave a snort of disgust and muttered a few words.  The sword in Skarn's hand flashed briefly.  "Finish it, you contemptible fool!"

The blade now shone like polished silver, and even in the dim light its sharpened edge seemed to glint with malice.

Looking up, Skarn's dazed gaze fixed on Elena.  He took an unsteady step forward.

Remus stepped determinedly in front of Elena, who had no time to protest before Voldemort's voice rang out, high with malicious pleasure.

"The werewolf first, Skarns."  He grinned at Elena, his thin lips stretching over uneven yellow teeth.  "Let Dumbledore's Heir see what happens to those who attempt to defy me.  Let her see what her pitiful devotion to empty ideals has resulted in."

"No!" Elena began to struggle fiercely, trying to get in front of Remus.

"Elena…" Remus half-turned, battling to keep her twisting form as far from the advancing Death Eater as he could.

Skarns needed only a moment of distraction to close the gap between himself and the werewolf.

Bringing his sword arm low, he plunged the gleaming blade deeply into Remus Lupin's back.  Remus froze, his sharp intake of breath hissing in his throat, and his spine arched inward.  Before Skarns could pull back, however, a strange thing happened.

A small surge of green energy, a remnant of the dark magic still draining from Remus's system, sprang up from nowhere and rippled wickedly over his skin.  It reached the sword embedded in his flesh, and travelled along it like a bolt of electricity.  A bright green spark erupted at the point where Skarn's hand gripped the hilt, and with a low grunt of shock and pain, he crumpled to the ground.  

He did not move again.

For a moment Elena stared in dull horror, unable to comprehend what had just taken place.  Then Remus began to topple forwards, falling heavily against her.  

Elena's eyes went wide with horrified understanding.

She supported him as best she could, lowering him awkwardly but gently to the ground.  

He lay on his side, a shiny grey pallor overtaking his features.  Shock alone held off the unspeakable anguish that was building somewhere inside.  Crouching beside him, Elena reached out to grasp the sword's hilt, wanting to wrench the evil thing from his body.  

But his hand fastened in her wrist with surprising strength, halting her.  "No," he whispered.  "It won't help."

For a moment, Elena could only stare at him.  

In his direct grey gaze she read pain, and apology… and defeat.  She realised he had given up.  Realised that in a few moments, his eyes were going to close and never open again.  And she would loose him.  

She would loose him.

"_No…_" She wanted to scream the word, but her chest was too constricted to produce more than a choked whisper.  "Remus, no…"  Frantic and helpless, her hands wandered over his face and hair and shoulders, trying to coax him into a response, trying to hold him with her…

His chest expanded suddenly in a deep inhalation.  He raised his hand slowly towards her face…  

Then the breath was released and his hand dropped without quite brushing her skin.

His eyes closed.

Elena knelt beside him in silence.  An eternity passed by.  She could not move.  She could not see.  She could not feel.

Her eyes remained dry.  She stared directly ahead, and did not blink.

Very, very slowly, moving like a brittle-boned old woman, Elena climbed to her feet.  She turned.  She faced the strange, shrivelled man in the disproportionately large armchair.  She began to walk towards him.

Voldemort ginned cruelly as she approached.  He knew the girl was unarmed.  He toyed with the idea of letting her live, just to prolong her separation from her lover.  Looking at her face, he suspected that death would be the kinder option for her now.

Elena came to a stop within an arm's length of Voldemort's armchair.  Her expression didn't change as she raised one empty hand in front her, palm out.

Voldemort's face twisted mockingly, and he mimicked her action, only he held a wand lightly between his fingers.  

Remus's wand.

Elena's anger erupted inside her, shattering the numbness and flooding her with red hot  hate.

Externally, however, her expression did not changed and her hand did not tremble.

 "He loved me," she said, her tone completely impassive, "He loved me.  And he was killed saving my life.  You know what that means, don't you?" 

And Voldemort, terror of nations and Lord of Darkness, paled sharply beneath the yellowed parchment of his skin as her meaning struck home.

Striking out like a snake, Elena clenched her hand on his dry, scaly wrist.

Voldemort's slit-like red eyes bulged violently and he began to struggle as his skin ignited with white-hot light beneath Elena's grip.  But she was merciless in her tenacity, and made no concession to the creature's obvious agony.

Even as she watched, his yellowish skin seemed to get grayer and duller, while hers grew brighter and began to glow.  

Then, in a flash of green light, Voldemort was gone.

The armchair was empty.

And Elena was alone in the room.


	31. The Headmaster

**_A/N: _**_I have only one thing to say, and that is: thank you for your patience.  : ) Hope you enjoy._

**Chapter 31.**

Professor Dumbledore was a cautiously optimistic man.  He liked to believe the best of people, and always hoped for a positive outcome, even when the odds seemed against it.  He didn't see the point of pessimism, and cynicism was not really in his nature.

But now Elena had been whisked away into a world of danger and darkness, and Remus had followed her into the snake pit.  Though he was trying very hard to maintain hope for their survival, Dumbledore was losing faith with every silent minute that ticked by.

He paced his office, seeing none of his surroundings, and rubbed softly at his temples.  They had been gone so long…

A faint flapping noise from the windowsill attracted his attention, and he jerked his head around in the direction of the sound.

Fawkes settled gently onto the window frame, a scrap of paper clenched gently in his beak.

In three long strides, Dumbledore was across the room and unfolding the ragged scrap.  Inside were two words, written in a loose, shaky scrawl: "_The gates."_

Within minutes, the old Headmaster was crossing the lawns once more, headed for the enormous wrought iron gates that divided Hogwarts from the outside world.  He limped very slightly, but he moved with the urgent speed of a man many years his junior.  Fawkes flapped slowly above him, circling anxiously.

He made out the figure of Elena, sitting in the distance, just within the boundaries of Hogwarts.  She appeared to be cradling something in her arms.  Something large.

Dumbledore looked up, not pausing in his stride.  "Fawkes," he said quietly, "Go and fetch Madame Pomfrey.  Bring her to the gates.  Hurry."

The gorgeous bird changed direction immediately, and swooped off toward the castle.

Dumbledore was almost upon the scene before Elena looked up.  Her face was white and her eyes were swollen and red.  Her arms were wrapped tightly around Remus's upper body, and his head was resting lifelessly against her shoulder.  His eyes were closed.

Beside them on the grass lay a blood-smeared steel sword, and a single glossy black stone.

"What happened?" Dumbledore demanded, but Elena only stared at him with pained blue eyes and shook her head, unable to speak the words.

The Headmaster gazed intently at Remus's grayish face, and frowned deeply.  With brisk steps he made his way over to the sword and picked it up, examining it closely for a few moments.

Then he looked up.  "Put him down, Elena."

For a moment Elena hesitated, tightening her arms defensively around his body.

"Do as I say!"

Shock at his sharp tone as much as instinctive obedience to the old wizard prompted her to comply.  Very gently, she laid Remus's unresisting body onto the grass and backed away from him.

Dumbledore paid no more attention to her.  Still frowning in concentration, he tossed aside the sword and held out his wand.

"_Lycansform_," he said firmly.

For a moment there was no effect.

Then Remus's body shivered very slightly, as though a ripple had passed under his skin, and then with alarming swiftness his limbs and body writhed and morphed into a different shape altogether.  

Before Elena even fully registered what was happening, Remus was gone and in his place lay the huge, rangy wolf with the grey-black pelt and long snout she remembered from her nightmarish encounter in the abandoned shack.

Unlike Remus, who had lain still and pale in her arms, the wolf was twitching slightly.  Fresh blood tricked from the sword-wound in its spine, remoistening the dried matting of its fur.  Its claws flexed and relaxed in paroxysms of apparent pain, and its lips curled back over cruel white fangs.  It did not open its eyes.

Elena stared in bewildered horror, torn between confusion and hope.  Her gaze flicked from the wolf to Dumbledore and back again, but the Headmaster paid her no attention.  All his energies seemed focused on the creature before him. 

Even as they watched, the gaping wound began to shrink.  It healed slowly at first, then faster and faster until nothing remained but a small patch of gray scar tissue, and within a few seconds even that was overtaken by proliferating fur.

The wolf stopped twitching.  Elena held her breath.  There was a taut pause.  And suddenly the wolf's eyes snapped open, glowing like yellow lamps even in the fading afternoon light.  They fixed with frightening alertness upon Elena, who was kneeling only two metres away.  A second later it was on its feet, and launching toward her.

She never found out what it had been about to do.

Dumbledore's cry of _Homoform!_ came split-seconds before the creature reached the place where she sat.  At the sound of the old man's voice, the wolf froze, and again its skin seemed to ripple.  This time, however, it seemed to fight its transition.  An unholy keening emerged from its throat as the spell took hold, and the morphing process occurred much more slowly, much more painfully.  Its limbs twisted and its skin writhed.  The keening changed, deepening, until it was no longer the cry of an animal in pain and became the hoarse shout of a man in agony.

And then the noise stopped.

For a few moments, the silence was broken only by Elena's pounding heart and heaving ribcage, and Remus's heavy gasps as he lay trembling on the grass.  A  few more seconds passed before he shakily began to push himself up and into a sitting position.

Suddenly, a tiny strangled noise escaped from Elena's throat, and she threw herself gracelessly at the weakened man, knocking him back to the ground.  Remus winced at the impact, but did not pull away.  Instead, his arms wrapped slowly around her clinging form, and closing his eyes, he returned her fierce embrace with all the strength he could muster.

By the time Madame Pomfrey arrived on the scene, puffing and red in the face with her MediWitch kit under her arm, she found there was little for her to do.

Deep lines creased her forehead as she took in the obliviously embracing couple, the bloodied sword on the grass, and the telltale slice still visible in Remus's bloodied robes.

She looked questioningly at Dumbledore, not sure of what to say, or what questions to ask.

He saw her face, and smiled tiredly.  "Think of your folklore, Poppy," he chided gently, divining her confusion and the reasons for it in a glance, "The sword is made of steel.  Deadly to a man.  But a man in his werewolf form…  Well, you recall that only silver can kill a werewolf."

Madame Pomfrey nodded slowly, and her frown faded for a moment.  Relief that her Remus and his love were both alive and safe flooded her, but it was soon tinged with anxious apprehension for what was coming next.  

Remus and Elena were together, and for now that was enough for both of them.  But their bond had been deepened now beyond what was strictly natural.  Each had saved the other's life, not just physically, but by means of an ancient and fundamental magic.  The spell that had protected them from death by an Unforgivable curse was a powerful force.  Though they remained separate people, Remus and Elena now shared the kind of link that would destroy them both if it were ever broken.

And yet… he was still a werewolf, and she was still the Heir of Dumbledore.  Her children would be the hope of the future, but Elena would have no man but Remus.  And there was still no guarantee that Remus could even bring himself to live with the risk of tainting Elena with his curse.  Yet how could they live apart now?

There were dark times ahead, Madame Pomfrey thought sadly.  

And the problems the lovers would have to face next would surely create wounds that were beyond her powers of healing.


	32. The Werewolf's Bride

The Werewolf's Bride  
  
The woman stood alone in the small and neatly-tended garden. In one hand she held a bright yellow watering can, but it dangled loosely in her grasp. Even from where he stood, about a hundred yards down the quiet Muggle street, Remus could sense her complete relaxation, her simple enjoyment of the late summer afternoon, and fading sunlight.  
  
Her hair was a loosely fixed cloud of red and grey about her classically featured and still-beautiful face. He knew from the Ministry files he had researched that she was exactly sixty-two years old, but even disregarding that, her appearance startled him. He wasn't sure what he had expected. Someone more haggard and care worn, perhaps. More worn down by the hardships life had dealt her.  
  
For her life had dealt some harsh blows, he had no doubt of that.  
  
After all, she had spent the last thirty-odd years of her life married to a werewolf.  
  
Remus hadn't even thought it possible. But here was the proof - just as the Ministry files had described her. Benita Herrington. Spouse of Jack Herrington, unregistered werewolf. Unregistered, like so many of the werewolves Voldemort's servants had uncovered, and more often than not, successfully recruited.  
  
In the days and weeks following Elena's traumatic kidnapping, Remus had scarcely seen her. Instead, he had channelled all of his considerable energies into recounting for the Ministry all that he had learned from his audience with the Dark Lord, and organising investigations. Spies had been briefed, and confidences infiltrated. If it was the last thing he did, Remus would find out more about these renegade werewolves of whom Voldemort had spoken. It was important in the war they would have to fight some day soon, but Remus was ashamed to admit that even that concern was secondary. Somewhere in his mind, in every hour of every day, the same questions and the same hope burned... Maybe, just maybe, one of them will be able to tell me, once and for all.... What is our future to be? Do I dare to even dream that we might have one? Most of all, can I survive it if I am told that we do not?  
  
His reasons for leaving Elena behind at Hogwarts were manifold. For one thing, he wanted to give them both a little time to come to grips with recent events. Powerful magic had been invoked, and both their lives were unavoidably altered forever, for better or for worse. After all that had passed between them, it was a bit overwhelming to deal with all at once. And then of course, Elena needed time alone with her adopted brother, successfully rescued from his magic-induced coma in the den of Skarns and Travim. Remus had met the young man before he left. Gerald had been guardedly friendly in his manner with Remus, but he clearly adored Elena, and there was no mistaking his joy at being reunited with her, nor hers at his resurrection to life. Remus had been forced more than once to push down a guilty stab of jealousy as he observed Elena's devoted, glowing affection for the handsome young stranger. After all, there was no blood relation there. He knew it was stupid, and he ignored it as best he could. It wasn't even the main reason he knew he had to leave. Basically what he needed now, more than anything else, was the truth. The truth about his curse. The truth about werewolves. The truth about what his future was going to be.  
  
Unsurprisingly, information had been scarce. By tracing the steps of Voldemort's cronies, Ministry spies had uncovered plenty of evidence that there had indeed been many more werewolves lurking quietly in wizarding society than most had suspected. But most had been living as embittered loners, half-mad with their curse, and very few had resisted the Dark Lord's recruitment. Remus knew that Voldemort's promises of power and glory probably held appeal, but having experienced for himself the hellish life of loneliness and isolation that was the lot of his kind, he realised that for most just the offer of a place in the world would be enough to win them over entirely.  
  
Remus's research team revealed other facts too. For example, they learned that those few who remembered Voldemort's previous reign of terror without fondness, and elected to refuse his generous proposition of alliance, were generally not left alive long enough to regret their choice.  
  
Despite the isolation of individual werewolves around Britain and Europe, rumours warning of this rather brutal recruitment campaign spread amongst them, allowing several forewarned individuals to slip through the network of Voldemort's cronies and disappear. Not particularly concerned by this, the Dark Lord did not waste resources seeking these unpromising renegades out. The Ministry, on the other hand, responded to this information with a great deal of interest. They were very keen indeed to know more about these potential allies.  
  
Unsurprisingly, Remus had been elected to make first contact. He was handed a summarised list of names, and adequate resources were put at his disposal for him to begin investigating more deeply into the lives of the werewolves.  
  
Jack Herrington was the seventh name on that list. Of the first six, two had been untraceable, three had been unwilling to co-operate with the Ministry and one was expressing a guarded interest in becoming allied with the Ministry's cause. All had been loners - completely unattached, with few friends. Each subsequent case depressed Remus further. It did not bode well for his close-held hopes.  
  
It was three weeks before Remus even reached the seventh name. Jack Herrington, previously of Brighton, England. Recently disappeared, along with . Along with his wife.  
  
It took a few seconds for Remus to realise that his hands were shaking. He put the folder of records down on the desk, and turned to stare at the wall for several long moments. When he got to his feet at last, it was very slowly, and with extreme care, as though he were afraid something might break. Gently and deliberately, he closed the folder, then crossed the room and took his long outer robe down from its hook beside the door. For a moment he paused, uncertain and overwhelmed. Then, with a quick shake of his head, he shrugged the robe over his broad shoulders and left the room in swift strides.  
  
And now he was here. He had traced Jack and Benita Herrington all the way to the little Muggle town of Monaghan in Ireland, where they had fled to avoid a confrontation with Voldemort's recruiting minions. Now he would finally learn the truth.  
  
As he approached, Mrs Herrington turned to glance at him. Her head began to tilt in a nod of acknowledgment. Clearly she expected him to pass on by. But as he slowed to a stop in the street before her, she looked more closely, and the detached friendliness in her expression tightened. She took in his hair, thick and streaked with strands of silver, and his face, prematurely lined. She met his gaze, and saw in his eyes deep pools of remembered pain.  
  
And he knew from her expression that the secret he had kept so carefully hidden from the world throughout almost all his living memory had been laid bare in the space of few seconds, before he had even spoken a word. It was unnerving, to say the least. But at least he knew he had the right place. This woman knew all the subtle signs of a werewolf, and knew them well.  
  
Without looking away, she called out to someone in the little house behind her. "Jack!" She didn't sound panicked, just wary and matter-of-fact. "Jack, you'd better come out here."  
  
There was a swift scuffle from inside the house, and moments later, the door was flung open and a man hurried out to stand beside his wife. Remus couldn't help but notice how he angled his own body slightly in front of hers. They were not unaccustomed to danger, this couple.  
  
Jack Herrington looked much older than his wife, with a thick crown of pure white hair and a weathered, grimace-lined face. His whiskey-coloured eyes were fierce and suspicious, and he moved with a limp. Other than that, his body looked solid and strong, and he was unexpectedly quick on his feet.  
  
Again, Remus felt himself subjected to a swift, knowing examination.  
  
"What d'ye want." It was a demand, not a question.  
  
Remus took a breath. "My name is Remus Lupin," he said carefully, keeping his voice low. "I'm a Professor at Hogwart's School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I can see that you both knew instantly what else I am. I know what you are too, and I know what you're afraid of. Believe me, I wish you no harm. I have a proposition for you." He did not mention the Ministry just yet. Werewolves had no reason to trust their fate to a governing body that had never protected their interests in the past.  
  
Even so, the response was terse. "We've had enough of propositions. We aren't interested."  
  
Remus nodded slowly, and swallowed. "Very well. Formal inquiries aside then, I wonder if you would just. answer a few questions. Of my own." His pleading gaze flicked from Benita to Jack and back again. He saw that Benita's expression seemed to have softened very slightly, although Jack was clearly unmoved.  
  
"Please." He said, speaking before Jack could deliver another hostile rebuff. "Please, you don't realise how much it would mean." He stumbled, struggling to explain. "Werewolves don't generally marry, you know. Of course you know. And I . Well, there's a girl. A woman, I mean. But I can't . I won't risk her, you see. But there's just so much I don't know, not for certain. And you. you and your wife. you might be the only people who can help me. Help us. I - " He shrugged helplessly. "Please."  
  
Silence answered him. The Herringtons stared at him, Jack scowling in suspicious indecision, Benita now looking compassionate and a little wistful. She put a hand on her husband's arm.  
  
He looked down at her. She gazed up at him, smiling slightly. "Do you remember?" She asked softly. He huffed brusquely, although without much heat. He turned his head back to face Remus, and looked him up and down once more.  
  
"Right," he said tersely, looking swiftly up and down the street, still not completely at ease, "I'm not sure this is a good idea. But if you really are from Hogwarts then I don't suppose you can be one of Them. You don't have the look of one of them. Suppose you'd better come inside."  
  
For the first time that day, or perhaps even that month, Remus exhaled on a smile.  
  
"Thank you." He said simply. "Thank you very much."  
  
And he followed them into the house. 


	33. The Beginning of the End

**_Author's Note:  _**_This is it!  The final two chapters, both posted together as a kind of 'sorry present' to those of you who have been forced to wait for much too long.  I'm afraid I rather rudely went gallivanting off around __Europe__ for a few months instead of sitting at home and finishing this story.  It's OK – my priorities are back in order and the damn thing is finally finished!  *cue cheers and whistles and applause*  Anyway, I hope you like it, and I'll see you at the end…_

**Chapter 32.**

**_The Beginning of the End._**

Elena sat at a desk in the deserted Library, a single lamp burning in mid air above her work, enveloping her solitary form in a pool of glowing light.  Her right hand still held a quill, lying loose and forgotten in her fingers.  Her left hand was propping up her head as she gazed off into the shadowy darkness, her mind drifting freely.  On the desk was a curious mixture of books and papers, and scribbled notes.  The books bore titles like _MediWizard Companion -  the latest advances in medicinal potions_, and _Shifting Shapes: true accounts by Animagi wizards, from 1240 to the present_.  The papers appeared to be completed exams on the subject of Charming, still at various stages of being marked.  The notes were a varied mass, with lots of crossing out and scribbled ideas and theories.  

One read _Beasts and Baddies of the Wizarding World, pg 887 – 'Werewolves do not attack other animals.'__  But R attacked me… perhaps to do with being another wolf?  Territorial?  Must make sure am recognised as one of his pack.  How?  Will the Wolf know me as me if it sees me again in wolf form?_

Another said _His Own Best Friend: Biography of a Werewolf, pg 29 – '…transformation painful is in the extreme, inevitably accompanied by violent convulsions and involuntary screams…only exception was an occasion upon which he accidentally fell and was knocked unconscious a few hours before the full moon rose.  Still out cold when the time for transformation came upon him, the curse descended with unusual smoothness and a conspicuous absence of sound…' __Remember that __R. also transformed easily while unconscious, and painfully when awake.  Seems to indicate that fighting against the transformation exacerbates the pain.  If it were possible to reduce his resistance to changing man-to-wolf and wolf-to-man...._

Elsewhere was scrawled _Cast out Charm human mind to human mind - no resistance if forewarned of Charm.  Change self to wolf.  Invite R. to change too, across coercive mind-link.  Soothe and calm across link.  If I can get him to _want _to change, or at least not fight so hard, it will be less painful for him?  Wolfsbane plus Charm should guarantee complete calm during curse's duration. _

Finally, in rough black ink on the back of a page torn from a text book - _If the Wolf can be taught to see me in my wolf form as part of his own pack, then it's possible that for the first time, both R and the Wolf will have a common desire in me.  Perhaps this will help in some way to ease the battles they wage…?_

This was how Elena had spent the interminable weeks since Remus had left Hogwarts – finding out all that she could about werewolves, Wolfsbane, transformations, and how her own talents might be used to ease the worst aspects of his curse.  She had shown her work so far to McGonagall and Dumbledore, and accepted their criticisms attentively and their praise impatiently.  Until the answers were all before her, she did not want to hear congratulations of any kind.  She was so sure the answers could be found, and more sure of it every day.  But here was still much still so to be done….  And of course, until Remus returned, she could prove nothing for certain.

Until Remus returned.

She released an inward sigh.  He had been gone such a long time, or at least it seemed so.  Three weeks and two days.  Long enough, surely, for whatever it was he had gone off to do.  He had told her he was seeking answers.  She had a fair idea what that meant.  It meant he was going to look for other werewolves, the werewolves of which Voldemort had spoken of as being so unexpectedly numerous.  He was going to find out once and for all what his Curse really entailed.

There had been a time in their relationship when Elena would have despaired at such a separation.  There had been a time when she would have believed, probably correctly, that once he tore himself away from Hogwarts Remus would manage to talk himself into accepting responsibility for all the wrongs in the world and never return to her.  But such a prospect no longer had the power to torment her days and prolong her nights.  Remus would come back.  He would always come back to her.  She would always come back to him.  

They didn't even have a choice anymore - if they ever had.  The spell that had protected them from death had quite literally bound their hearts and spirits together, using their united strength and strength of their feelings to repel the Dark Magic.  The bond lasted still, and now it always would.  All she had to do was wait, and hope.  Because if Remus were to discover that his Curse was as hopelessly dangerous as he feared, both their lives would be more or less forfeit.  They would be unable to live together, and incapable of living apart.

Shaking her head to be free of these unhelpful reflections, Elena dipped her quill in the red ink pot on her desk and began to mark another Charms paper.  After a few moments she put her quill down and began to read the essay before her more closely.  Her eyes flicked up to the name in the top corner -  'Hermione Granger'.  Elena laughed softly and continued reading, deeply absorbed by the girl's impressive grasp of the craft, and extraordinary verbosity.  How on earth had the girl found time to fill up twelve full scrolls with quality essay-writing during a forty-five minute examination?  At the bottom of the final page Elena shook her head in pleased disbelief, picked up her quill once more, and inscribed a very careful 'A+' in the margin.

With that, she dropped the quill on the page and stretched her arms high above her head, relishing the click of one or two disused joints.  The lamp hovering above her desk was burning low now, and the dark, empty hallways of the school were completely silent.  Her isolated little pool of light and consciousness began to seem a little lonely.  Or at least, brought to the surface the ever-present ache of loneliness that she had only ever been able to shake when Remus was beside her.  

Remus.  The thought of him bought a sad little smile to her lips.  She missed him so fiercely that it seared her.  She shut her eyes a moment to lose herself in thoughts of him.  His eyes, his hands, his smile.  She fantasised briefly that he was right there with her, coming up behind her, putting his strong arms around her waist, letting her lean back against his broad, warm chest…

When she opened her eyes again, the lamp had burned out, and the library was completely dark.  She sighed softly and was about to create a guide light with her wand when she suddenly realised that she was not in the Muggle world any longer.  No matter how low that lamp burned, it should not have gone out until someone gave the command.  And she had given no command.

In less than a second, her body and mind went from a state of drowsy wistfulness to a state of full alert.  She spun around, debating swiftly whether it would give her more of an advantage to relight the lamp and expose herself in a pool of light, or to remain in darkness and put herself and her assailant on even ground.

The shadowy outlines of towering bookshelves stretched away in every direction.  There was no sound anywhere, and no hint of movement.  Trying to calm her pounding heart, Elena raised her wand before her.  "Who's there?"  She called into the listening darkness, her voice stronger than she had expected.

For a few moments, silence was her only reply.  Suddenly there was soft white glow in the air directly in front of her, and where there had been nothing but empty space only seconds before, a single white rose bloomed gloriously, glimmering and revolving in thin air.  As Elena watched in dumb astonishment, its snowy petals flushed fiery orange, then royal purple, then a rich, dark red.

Slowly, scarcely daring to believe, Elena put out her hand.  The rose immediately drifted towards her, coming to rest gently across her palm.  Its thorns were incongruously long and sharp for such a beautiful flower, but Elena lifted the stem carefully, avoiding the worst of them.  She inhaled hesitantly.  The scent was strong and pleasing, but curiously bittersweet.

A happy sob in the back of her own throat caught her completely by surprise.  She looked up.  "Remus?" she called, her voice shaking much more now than it had when she had felt threatened.  "Is that you?"

"Is there someone else," came a slow voice from the shadows, deep with undefinable emotion and mild amusement, "Who comes to you at night with roses?"  And with that, a dim light materialised above and a tall figure stepped out of the darkness towards her.

"Remus!" Elena could barely speak his name as she dropped the flower and rushed forward, into his waiting embrace.  His arms folded around her, solid and warm.  He was really here.  Here and holding her tightly, as though he would never let her go.  She pressed her face into the front of his robes, then against his neck, then raised her face and felt his lips descend swiftly and fiercely to hers.

She couldn't say how long they kissed for.  When his mouth was moving against hers and his strong hands were gliding over her waist and back and hair, time simply had no role to play.  All she knew for certain was that it was wonderful.

When the kiss finally ended, they were still unwilling to break contact.  Elena laid her head against his chest and stood contentedly in his embrace.  For a long time neither one spoke a word.  It was Elena who finally broke the silence.

"Are you back to stay?"  She asked quietly.

It was a bigger question than it seemed.  A world of sorrows or a world of joy would be contained in his answer.

For a few moments, Remus said nothing at all.  Then he sighed.  "You'd better sit down.  There's a lot to be said."


	34. The End of the Beginning

**Chapter 34.**

****

**_The End of the Beginning._**

Elena felt an icy chill grab at her heart, pushing back some of the glorious warmth it had been suffused with only seconds before.  She allowed herself to be led back toward her desk.  Remus noticed her scribblings and research notes strewn over the desk top.

"What's all this?" he asked, his tone astonished.

"It doesn't matter right now," Elena replied faintly, "Tell me what you have to say first."  She looked and felt grey and hollowed.  She did not think she would breathe again until she had heard Remus's news.

He looked slightly pained, which did nothing for her state of mind.  "Please - sit down," he said gently, guiding her into her chair and pulling one up to sit beside her.  He kept hold of her hand, and took a deep breath.

"I still hardly know myself whether the things I have discovered are good news or bad," he began, "Both, I suppose.  But all that I can do is tell you what has happened.  I traced a werewolf by the name of Jack Harrington.  Jack is somewhat unique amongst the few werewolves I have known in that he married a witch, a Miss Benita Upworth, a little over thirty years ago."  He heard Elena's sharp intake of breath.

"And is she - ?"

Remus shook his head.  "No," he said carefully, "She has never shown any sign of contracting the Curse herself."

Elena felt intensely light headed.  "Then she -  Then we - "

Remus winced slightly and held up one hand.  "There is more that you should know.  Even though Mrs Harrington assures me that she is very happy in her marriage, their life has not been easy.  There have been several close calls on nights of the full moon.  There has been prejudice, sometimes to the point of victimisation, in every wizarding community they have tried to settle in.  It has been difficult for her to watch her husband suffer and know that during all the darkest moments of his life, she can not be there with him.  But most of all … there has been the issue of children."

Remus paused to let that sink in.  Elena stared straight ahead, but he had the feeling she wasn't really seeing him.  "Children," she repeated numbly.  She hadn't even considered that difficulty.  She had just assumed, somehow, that…  that what?  That they were a given?  That once she and Remus found a way to be together themselves, all other aspects of their life would just follow naturally?  Easily?  She should have known better.  When had anything in this life ever come to her easily?

"You want children, don't you Elena."  It was more of a statement than a question, and the words seemed to squeeze from his throat as though he had difficultly speaking them aloud.

Elena closed her eyes.  What point was there in lying?

"Yes.  Yes, I would like children."  It hurt to say it.  Of course she wanted children.  Her family had been taken from her.  She knew what it meant to be alone in the world.  She wanted half a dozen children, little girls that looked like Dawne or her mother, and boys to echo her father and Remus.

Remus nodded, his head slightly bowed.  It was a confirmation of what he already knew.  Not only knew, but understood.  Some deep part of him was forever dictated by the instincts of the Wolf, and the urge to create a family, a pack of his own to raise and protect, was a powerful force.

"Benita and Jack wanted children, too," he said heavily.  "Lots of children.  Benita told me that in the end, she began no less than eleven pregnancies.  Nine times, she miscarried before the fourth month.  Always on nights when the moon was full.  According to the Mediwizards, the babies that died had inherited their father's Curse, and were affected by the Change even from within the womb.  They were too fragile to bear it, though, and died before full term."  He swallowed hard, and forced himself to meet Elena's gaze.  "A dead baby isn't an easy thing to cope with," he said roughly, "And Benita endured it nine times.  Could you endure it, Elena?  Could I endure watching you go through it?  Could _we_ survive it?"

Elena blinked slowly, causing an overflow of tears to spill down her cheeks.  She raised her hand to Remus's face placed her palm on his check, stroking a thumb beneath his eye.  It came away damp.  "You said… eleven pregnancies?"  She managed to ask, her voice almost as hoarse as his.

He nodded, raising his head slightly.  "Two children did survive.  Two boys.  Grown up now, and moved away.  They show no sign of any Curse… although Jack says they do have an unusually good sense of smell."

In spite of herself, Elena grinned weakly at his joke.  "Oh Remus…" she whispered, half in sadness, half in joy.  Unhappy with the distance between them, she got to her feet and climbed into his lap, huddling as close as she could against the comfort of his body.  His arms wrapped around her and he rocked her gently, as though she were a child herself.

An interminable measure of time passed, during which they heard nothing but the slow, soft sounds of one another's breaths and heart beats.  Finally Elena pulled her wand from her sleeve and summoned the red rose he had given her not more than an hour before, although it felt like days.  It flew into her hands with a little too much force, and she pricked her palm on one of its many thorns.  A speck of red blood welled up, and she licked it quickly away.

Then she simply stared at it.  It was beautiful.  The wonderful bittersweet scent of it drifted up to her, and she breathed deeply.  It smelt alive.  It smelt like hope.  And she smiled very faintly through her drying tears.

"That rose won't ever die, you know," came Remus's soft voice from just above her.  "For as long as I live, it will endure.  I'm not sure what will happen when I die.  I can't imagine it fading even then."  She looked up, leaning back slightly so that she could meet his gaze directly.  He looked very serious, as though reading her face for signs that she understood.

She did.

She kissed him, very softly.

"I know," she replied quietly, a small smile in her voice.  "I intend to take very good care of it."

He took her hand in his and turned it over to expose the short streak of blood on her palm.  "You know it has thorns," he said gravely.

She smiled again, more widely this time.  "Thorns, yes it does.  But it also has beautiful beautiful petals," she pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, "And it smells divine," she buried her face in the crook of his neck and happily inhaled all the heady scents that she associated with him.  Finally she lifted his own hand to her lips, and kissed his palm.  "And I love it," she concluded matter-of-factly, "And I couldn't give it up even if you asked me to."  Her voice softened, "So please Remus - don't ask me to." 

He stared at her for a moment, as though gauging the depth of her sincerity.  She held his gaze without wavering.

Suddenly, as though something had finally been decided for good, he caught her chin in his hand and kissed her deeply and fiercely.  When he broke away, Elena had the dizzying impression that she had just been irrecoverably marked, and claimed for life.

"I love you," he said, with such certainty and force that she felt a little overwhelmed.

"I know," she answered quietly, even though she felt like weeping for the joy of it.  "I know."

With a calmness she did not feel, she laid her head back down on his chest, and linked her hands around his neck.  Both were still for a very long time.

Outside, through the thick glass of the library windows, a cold silver half-moon was setting over the craggy peaks of distant mountains.  But of the two embracing forms within the castle tower, neither the Werewolf nor the Charmer noticed it at all.

THE END.

_Author's Final Note:_ …how sad to write that – 'final note'.  I quite liked Elena, even though I was getting pretty jealous of her toward the end there.  Well, I hope you enjoyed this story.  If you did or you didn't, I'd sincerely love to hear about it, so go on and review – if it helps, I dare you to.  I'm working on two other Harry Potter fics, but I'm trying to hold on to them til they're finished this time, rather than posting in fits and starts.  I'm afraid they won't be about Remus and Elena though.  I wouldn't like to put them through anything more than what they have already been through.  I imagine their future will have some tragedies left in it, but they will always have each other now, I'm certain of that.  And Remus will _never_ be alone, ever again.  The End.  Really the end, now.  See ya, and thanks for reading.  


End file.
